


Days 'Til December

by libertycas



Series: December 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Community: deancasbigbang, DCBB, DCBB 2015, Established Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, New York City, Online Relationship, Other: See Story Notes, Student Castiel, Summer, Teen Dean, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:39:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libertycas/pseuds/libertycas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester, aged nineteen and a half, has fallen blissfully, head-over-heels in love with the perfect guy. Unfortunately, there's a catch – they met online, and live almost two thousand miles apart. Arranging to meet Cas and spend a week with him in New York has to be most terrifying thing Dean's ever done, but much to his relief, it ends up going a hell of a lot better than he might have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days 'Til December

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  **[Fic Masterpost](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/226875.html) | [Art Masterpost](http://itsdeancas.tumblr.com/post/130827213566/art-for-days-til-december-by-libertycas)**   
> 
> 
>   
>  First off, I'd like to say a big thanks to my artist for this year's DCBB, the lovely [itsdeancas](http://itsdeancas.tumblr.com/)! She worked really hard and finished everything on time despite having exams shortly before our posting date. She put a lot of effort into this project, and she was a pleasure to work with.
> 
> I'd also like to thank [theoverlordmisha](http://thespookylordmisha.tumblr.com/) and [melancholiamatt](http://grimgrinningcas.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for beta'ing the fic. The editing process wasn't easy, but your comments definitely helped a lot!
> 
> This fic has to be the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. There isn't even much of a plot, it's just Dean and Cas sightseeing in NYC (among other things), and it's pure fluff. If that sounds like something you might enjoy, go ahead and read! Comments would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> A couple of brief warnings - as mentioned in the tags, some d/s dynamics are touched upon in this fic (with dom!cas and sub!dean), but it's very mild stuff. Previous relationships including Dean/Benny and Meg/Cas are also mentioned in passing, but they have no real impact on the story.

 

* * *

 

  **Monday**

 

Dean set an alarm for eight, but he didn’t need it in the end, since he’s woken up ten minutes early by his phone buzzing on the nightstand. It’s a text from Cas – Dean can be one hundred percent certain of this before he's even opened his eyes. He stretches, rolls over onto his side and fumbles for his phone, and sure enough, there’s a notification and a little grey text bubble to accompany it.

**Received 07:50 AM --  
** **Good morning, Dean. :-)**

Dean smiles – he was right, of course. He’s received that same text every morning for the past eighteen months now, and Cas always greets him promptly. The time varies a little, and usually depends on whether or not Cas has an early lecture – but the message always arrives, and it’s always the same. A good morning, and a smiley face. Cas loves those things.

**Sent 07:51 AM --  
** **hey cas. up bright and early, huh?**

**Received 07:54 AM --  
** **Apologies if I woke you. I’ve been up since five thirty, I couldn’t sleep. I’m too excited about today.**

**Sent 07:55 AM --  
** **don’t sweat. and yeah, me too. :-)**

Dean wraps the covers around himself like a cocoon and spends a final few minutes in bed, waiting (and mentally preparing himself) for the alarm. As soon as it goes off, he forces himself up and into the shower.

Two days on the road have only confirmed Dean’s low opinion of motels. The beds always creak, the walls are always painted some hideous colour that makes it virtually impossible to sleep (this particular room is a migraine-inducing shade of yellow) and the average bathroom in one of these places is probably a petri dish of bacteria. Dean grimaces and tries to avoid thinking too much about the germs as he brushes his teeth and climbs into the shower.

The cheap motels, crappy food and small fortune he’s spent on gas will all be worth it, though. By this point, anything is worth it for Cas.

Dean’s settled on the idea of calling Cas his boyfriend. They’ve known each other almost eighteen months, and they’ve been in love for at least half of that time, if not longer – by now, thinking of Cas as anything less would seem like an insult. Dean would be the first to admit their circumstances are unusual, though. For all the hours they’ve spent talking, for all the time and effort they’ve put into this relationship, they’ve never actually met one another before.

Dean knows a lot about Cas. He would like to think he knows everything, but he knows that’s not true. He knows Cas is two years older than him, and that his birthday is September sixth, which makes him a Virgo. He knows Cas grew up in a tiny coastal town in Maine, with the ocean right on his doorstep, that he’s an only child, and that both of his parents work at their local hospital. Cas starts his final year of college this Fall, and he’s an English major, specialising in nineteenth-century European literature (Dean secretly thinks this sounds tedious as hell, though Cas has admitted his inability to comprehend Dean's obsession with seventies mullet rock, so at least they share a mutual misunderstanding). He’s thinking of training as a teacher once he graduates, but he has no definite plans yet. He takes three sugars in his coffee, has the most ridiculously blue eyes Dean's ever seen, puts way too many emojis in his texts and bites his nails when he's stressed, a habit he's trying to curb. Dean wouldn’t have thought it was possible to know so much about someone when they’ve never spent a second together in person.

Two months ago, they finally arranged to meet up, which is why Dean’s on the road, and why he’s currently checked in to this crappy motel in a sleepy corner of Southern Pennsylvania. He’s heading to New York, to spend a week there with Cas. It’s totally uncharted territory for Dean, who still lives at home and can count the number of times he’s left Kansas on one hand. This has to be, without a doubt, both the scariest and the most exciting thing he’s ever done.

As soon as he’s out of the shower, Dean checks his phone again. Cas has sent another text, a miniature essay this time on how excited he is that they’re finally meeting, and Dean spends the next ten minutes sitting on the edge of the bed in his towel, typing out the perfect response. It takes him a further ten minutes to get dressed, spreading his clothes out on the bed, standing in his underwear and musing over what to wear. He wants to make a good first impression.

He began talking to Cas the Christmas vacation before last, during Dean’s senior year of high school. He spent as much of that vacation as possible hanging out with Charlie, knowing she’d be heading off to college in less than a year. They’ve been best friends since kindergarten, and now she’s halfway across the country in California, one year into her Computer Science degree at UC Berkeley. Charlie’s like a sister to Dean, and just like real siblings, they’ve always been a little competitive. So, that winter, bored and tired of being single, they created profiles on dating sites (using their real details, no bullshitting – though Dean had to lie a little about his age, since he was still a month shy of eighteen) and decided that whoever managed to get an actual date out of it first would be declared the winner. The prizes were ten dollars, full bragging rights and the satisfaction of knowing they’d won.

They were used to doing stupid shit like this, and during a conversation they had the following summer, Charlie confessed an ulterior motive she had the whole time – she thought that if Dean could find a significant other, it might lessen the blow of her leaving for college. Most of Dean’s friends would be leaving town, and Charlie couldn’t bear the thought of him being alone. Dean thanked her for that, and he thinks she was right, at least to some extent. Cas has helped him a lot, though he still misses Charlie like crazy when she’s not around – and it doesn’t help that Cas lives hundreds of miles away, too.

To cut a long story short, Charlie won their bet, and Dean reluctantly handed over her ten dollars. She got matched up with a cute blonde living in Topeka – they met up a couple of times, though things never progressed much beyond that, and Dean gave up using the site immediately after his shameful defeat. He’s never been tech savvy, and secretly reckoned those things were only for people who couldn’t get laid, which is something he’s never had a problem with. A few weeks later, he logged back in for the sole purpose of deleting his account – and that’s when he saw Cas. 

It’s not like Cas was his first match. He’d had a few before, but none of them had caught his eye – whatever system this site used, it seemed pretty useless, pairing him up with people he seemed to have nothing in common with. Of course, he and Cas aren’t totally alike, and live almost two thousand miles apart (Dean only realised later that you actually had to switch on a ‘proximity’ tool to get paired up with ‘Hot Singles In Your Area’), but Cas had actually taken the time to write Dean a message, and a pretty wonderful one at that. Dean figured it wouldn’t hurt to message him back.

They added one another on Facebook and began talking regularly, progressing to swapping numbers, texting and the occasional phone call, and it turned out they had more in common than Dean thought. Cas likes a lot of the same TV shows and movies as him, so they would often discuss and debate over their favourites. For all of their differences, too, something just seemed to click between them – Dean still wouldn’t be able to put a finger on it now, but Cas just seems to understand him in a way few people ever have before. It wasn’t long before they became inseparable.

Eager to prove Cas was genuine, Dean set up a Skype account soon after (with some help from Sam, since Dean knows as much about computers as a single-celled organism would) and plucked up the courage to arrange a face-to-face conversation between them.

Their first video call ended up being awkward as fuck. It took Dean half an hour to set up his webcam and the quality was still shitty, too much grain and nowhere near enough contrast. He kept worrying about how he looked, if the lighting was all right, and his nerves left him shaking the whole way through. Nevertheless, the moment that dark, grainy image of Cas came into view on his computer screen, Dean knew he was done for. Cas was very much real, just as hot as his pictures suggested and as sweet as his messages implied.

Since then, the calls and texts have been constant, and day hasn’t passed where they’ve run out of things to say. They Skype as often as they can, though Dean’s ignorance towards technology leads to some minor glitches every once in a while. They even exchanged cards at birthdays and Christmas – falling in love seemed inevitable, really.

He and Cas mentioned meeting up a few times, though it was difficult to work things out. They’re both busy, Cas with his English degree and Dean with his mechanics course at the community college in Lawrence. Money was a major issue too, since flights or several days’ worth of gas wouldn’t be cheap. Dean’s job waiting tables on weekends and vacations doesn’t pay much, but he was serious about meeting Cas, so he began taking extra shifts whenever he could, and managed to save up enough to cover everything he’d need for the week. Cas was able to scrape together some money too, so three months ago, they finally got around to arranging all of this.

It took them a while to decide on New York. Cas was initially keen on flying out to Kansas, until Dean insisted there wouldn’t be much to see, unless he secretly harboured a burning passion for farms or mega-churches. Cas suggested Maine next, but Dean wasn’t too sure – Cas is home for the summer, so that would’ve meant meeting his parents too. Dean’s not quite ready for that yet – this is already a huge step, and there’s no need to make it an even bigger deal than it already is. New York isn’t exactly a halfway point, much further for Dean than Cas, but he didn’t mind making the journey. Neither of them has visited the city before, and they agreed that exploring it would be a great way to spend time together in person.

Frustrated and eager to get back on the road, Dean ends up choosing an old green shirt and a pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a grease stain on one back pocket. He’s never too fussy about what he wears, and not entirely sure why he’s freaking out over this. He shoves everything into his duffel bag, hands in his key at the reception desk and forks out fifty bucks for his room. He reckons that’s a bit much, considering what a shitty night’s sleep he had – though his excitement for today was definitely a contributing factor in that.

Once he’s checked out of the motel, it’s only a matter of minutes before Dean’s back in his favourite spot in the world – behind the wheel, speeding along an endless highway under the hot summer sun.

 

* * *

 

Dean pulls into a diner just off the Interstate at nine thirty for breakfast, and another for lunch in some nondescript Jersey suburb. The second diner is almost identical to the first, with worn-out linoleum flooring and a neon sign out front with three of the letters missing. Dean orders the biggest burger on the menu, a tower of beef and bacon and Monterey Jack that makes his mouth water just thinking about it, and downs his third cup of coffee for the day in two long gulps. He’s full of a strange kind of nervous energy, jittery and finding it hard to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop his left leg from shaking – whether it’s from his nerves or the caffeine, he’s not entirely sure.

As soon as Dean’s food arrives, his phone buzzes twice in rapid succession, and he reaches into his back pocket to check it. There are no prizes for guessing who it might be.

**Received 12:33 PM --  
** **Just about to board the plane. Never done this before, definitely a little nervous.**

**Received 12:34 PM --  
** **See you soon. I can’t wait.**

**Sent 12:37 PM --  
** **rather you than me, cas. good luck (try not to throw up)**

Dean can’t even stand the idea of flying, much less the reality. He could’ve arrived in New York in a matter of hours if he’d flown, but the thought of getting on a plane makes his head spin and his stomach lurch, and he’d avoided it at all costs. As far as he’s concerned, it was drive or bust, even if it’s taken him the better part of three days to make it this far – but he’ll actually be able to touch Cas, hear his voice and see those blue eyes for real in less than three hours now, and Dean reckons that’s worth a thousand days’ travelling.

* * *

 

Dean reaches New York just after two, La Guardia by two thirty. He’s never set foot anywhere near an airport before, and it’s a bewildering experience. He’s not remotely sure where he’s meant to be going, and pulls into the first parking lot he sees, worried where he’ll end up if he drives any further. It takes him forever to find a space too, cruising up and down endless rows before he finally spots someone leaving. He only just manages to grab it, yanking the wheel and swerving violently before the old lady in the ancient Corvette behind him gets there first – she scowls at Dean on the way past, and he gives her a condescending grin in return.

Despite that, Dean’s still early. He fidgets in the driver’s seat of his car, drums his fingers on the steering wheel and glances at his watch. It’s only a quarter to three, and Cas’ flight from Bangor isn’t due to arrive ‘til three thirty. Shit, another forty-five minutes – Dean could’ve had an extra half hour of sleep this morning and still made it here on time. With a sigh, he switches off the stereo and climbs out of his car, figuring he might as well wait this out somewhere with air conditioning.

He pays for parking and makes his way slowly towards the airport. Cas told him he’ll be arriving at Terminal C, though that doesn’t mean much to Dean. All of these buildings look identical to him, and he has no fucking clue where he’s meant to be going.

It takes him ten minutes to figure out where the correct terminal is, and a further ten of haphazard guesswork and asking several passers-by for directions before he finds the spot where he and Cas are supposed to be meeting. Luckily, he manages to find a free seat in their agreed spot, near the baggage claim, and texts Cas his whereabouts.

As Dean waits, it really starts to dawn on him. He’s actually meeting Cas in less than half an hour, and spending five days with him in a strange city, infinitely larger and busier than anywhere he’s ever been before.

Holy shit, this is _nuts_.

He’s not entirely sure why he’s so nervous, either. Relationships, dating, whatever you’d want to call it – they’ve come naturally to him in the past, so he’s beginning to wonder why Cas should be any different. Though Dean’s never fallen in love via the Internet before, and he never pictured ending up in this situation. He honestly has no idea what to expect from the next five days.

After some careful thought, Dean comes to a conclusion - there are roughly three possibilities. He and Cas could get along really well, but the physical connection might not be there – and that’s not the worst possibility. If that does happen, if they just decide to stay friends by the end of this, Dean reckons he could put up with that. The worst thing would be to lose Cas altogether.

Then again, maybe Dean really is freaking out about nothing. That connection could be there, and this week could be incredible. It could be better than everything they’ve had already, Dean could fall even more in love with Cas, and being physical with him could come just as naturally as it has with everyone else. Dean finds it a little odd to be in love with someone he hasn’t so much as kissed yet, and he’s never waited this long for sex before. He’s learned from past experience that it isn’t wise to expect sex from anyone, but it’d be seriously awesome if it happened this week.

Of course, there’s a third possibility too, and this is the one that Dean’s really dreading. There’s a chance this week could be awful. It could be awkward as hell, and Cas might be totally different in person – or worse, Dean might not live up to Cas’ expectations of him. Dean could say something stupid and fuck everything up. He’s done that in the past, and doesn’t trust himself to avoid repeating that mistake.

The more he thinks about it, the more he figures his nerves are justified after all.  

He passes the next fifteen minutes by thinking back to some of the other most terrifying experiences of his nineteen years, and how most of them pale in comparison to how much he’s bricking it right now. This is definitely more terrifying than the time Dean got two teeth pulled, aged six – he cried all the way to the dentist's office, and most of the journey back. Sam was just two at the time, and much to Dean’s dismay, he giggled hysterically on the backseat next to him the entire journey home.

Then there was the time Dean pedalled to the hospital with Sam balanced precariously on the handlebars of his bike, nursing a busted arm after jumping off the roof of their garden shed. Sure, Dean’s able to laugh about that one now – it’s become a much-told family anecdote, always popular at Christmas and Thanksgiving – but Dean’s nine year old brain wasn’t able to process the funny side. Instead, it’d spun into big-brother-panic-overdrive mode and he’d been scared shitless.

This takes the cake, though. He hasn’t considered everything that could go wrong, either. What if something happens to Cas’ flight? Dean couldn’t bear it if -

_‘Flight 364 from Bangor, now arriving at Gate Number 6.’_

…well, all right. He’s made it here, at least.

Dean waits, chewing on a hangnail, and reaches in his pocket every ten, fifteen seconds to check his phone. Soon enough, passengers begin to emerge, and Dean breathes a shaky sigh of relief, taking that as a good sign. He should be in the right place, and he’s picked a good vantage point – spotting Cas should be easy enough. 

And then, the second he processes that thought, Dean spots him.

He’s right there, at the top of the escalator, maybe fifty feet away from Dean. Blue shirt, dark jeans, perpetual sex hair. It’s unmistakeably Cas.

_Holy shit, that's him. This is actually happening._

Dean stands hurriedly, adjusts his collar and silently curses himself for not bringing gum, a breath mint or something, and for not checking his reflection earlier while he had the chance. Then Cas spots him too, his eyes light up, and he gives Dean what he's sure is the most wonderful smile he's ever seen, and all of Dean’s worries fade away. The only thing Dean can process is Cas, and in that brief, wonderful moment, everything else seems irrelevant.

Dean has no clue about the etiquette for this sort of thing. Is there some kind of secret established rule for meeting someone you’ve fallen in love with online? Dean has zero reference points for this. Does he take the safe route and go in for a hug, or try his luck at a kiss straight off the bat?

Much to his relief, Cas takes the lead and initiates a hug. Dean knew Cas was tall, but he’s still bigger than Dean expected. He’s strong too, but warm and tender. This could quite easily be the longest hug Dean’s ever experienced, certainly from anyone other than his mom. It’d be awkward if they weren’t actually _together,_ thoughit’s still a reserved greeting. Dean reckons that from a distance, they’d look convincingly platonic – until Cas plants a quick, gentle kiss above Dean’s jaw a split second before pulling away.

‘Hello, Dean.’

‘Hey, Cas,’ Dean replies, and he’s pretty sure his voice is wavering. He pauses, and his mind goes totally blank on what to say next – oh God, he was afraid of this. They’ve had a thousand conversations, but he can’t find anything to say now that they’re finally face-to-face.

‘Shall we walk and talk?’ Cas suggests, breaking the silence. ‘I have a bag to collect. It’s this way, isn’t it?’

‘Sure… and yeah, I think so.’

‘Did you have a good journey?’ Cas asks as they head towards the baggage claim.

‘Can’t complain. How was your flight?’

‘Excellent, thank you. The first time I’ve been on a plane, and it ended up being quite exciting in the end. I still can’t believe you insisted on driving here.’

‘No way, man,’ Dean says, laughing. ‘The idea of flying scares the shit out of me. I couldn’t do it.’

Much to Dean’s relief, once the conversation gets going, it doesn’t stop. Everything feels totally surreal right now, and it’s probably going to continue that way for the rest of week, but it’s not in the least bit awkward. They wait for Cas’ suitcase, which Dean insists on taking – Cas has a backpack too, and Dean would feel rude if he didn’t offer to carry something. Just before they leave the terminal, Cas stops at a newsstand to buy a map of the city for the week ahead.

Dean’s thankful to get away from the airport, and having Cas by his side makes it a thousand times better.

 

* * *

 

‘You were nervous about meeting me, weren’t you?’ Cas asks, taking a sip of his Coke.

It’s evening now, and must be getting late. Glancing outside of this tiny café, the sky has darkened to a deep haze of orange and blue, and the low sun casts long, black shadows across the ground. Dean lost track of the time hours ago – he’s too caught up in Cas’ eyes, his voice, and the simple, wonderful fact that _he’s actually here, right in front of him,_ to give a crap what time it is.

They’re both tired after travelling, so they decided to start the sightseeing tomorrow. It seems they have more than enough ideas of where to visit, perhaps even too many – Dean has made a mental note to edit Cas’ itinerary later. This evening, they ended up seeing a movie, some generic action flick that had Cas dozing off against Dean’s shoulder halfway through, and getting pizza afterwards. Dean heard that true New York pizza is the stuff of legends, and it was one of the things he was most looking forward to this week – fortunately, his experience of it tonight didn’t disappoint.

‘It was that obvious, huh?’ Dean replies.

‘Yes, I think so,’ Cas says with a smile. ‘If it’s any consolation, I was probably just as nervous as you were. I still am. I might just be better at hiding it, that’s all.’

‘Yeah, I think you are.’

Cas chuckles.

They’ve probably been in this café for hours now, though it feels nowhere near that long. They finished their food ages ago, but they’ve been ordering extra drinks in order to keep the table. It’s a decent tactic, but it only works for so long – it’s nine thirty when Dean finally remembers to check his watch, and he’s beginning to feel like they’ve overstayed their welcome, so they pay, leave a generous tip and head back to Dean’s car.

As much as Dean loves driving (he’s studying his ass off to be a mechanic, and his baby will always be his most prized possession), he’s beginning to understand why everyone takes the subway in New York. He’s used to open Kansas highways and the suburban streets of Lawrence, not the maze of traffic, lights and pedestrians he’s already faced after just a few hours in the city. There’s hardly any parking at their hotel, and what little there is costs a fortune, so they drive around the block until Cas spots an underground parking garage. It feels so wrong to leave his baby all alone down here, she deserves so much more than dull asphalt and neglect – but it’ll save Dean over a hundred bucks. He drags a finger longingly down her hood as they leave and head towards the hotel.

It’s nearing ten by the time they reach the lobby. This is the first time Dean’s booked a proper hotel room, and he hopes he’s done everything right. It seems like a pretty awesome place, just a few blocks from Central Park, and their room is on the fourteenth floor – he can’t wait to see the view up there.

Dean gives his last name to the concierge when they reach the front desk. She can’t be a day older than him and could pass for sixteen, with a peppy grin and a long ponytail that swishes from side to side as she moves her head.

‘Let me guess – double room?’ she says, without skipping a beat.

Dean blinks at her incredulously for a moment before nodding.

‘How long have you guys been together?’ she asks without looking up from the computer screen, her long fingernails tapping away at the keyboard.

‘Eighteen months,’ Cas replies, before Dean can get a word in edgeways. Dean turns to him and glares, trying to put an end to this conversation before things get too awkward and gooey – but Cas seems totally oblivious. The girl looks up from the screen, and Cas returns the beaming smile she gives him.

‘Oh my gosh, you guys are adorable. Seriously, you make such a cute couple,’ she says, resting her chin in her hands and staring fondly at Cas.

Dean winces. As soon as the concierge finds their room key, Dean grabs Cas’ sleeve and drags him off towards the elevator. He has a low tolerance for mushiness at the best of times, and that particular outburst has left him feeling seriously gross.

On their way up to the fourteenth floor, Cas turns to him and frowns, cocking his head to one side. ‘Do you really think we’re “cute”, Dean?’

He says it with such deadly seriousness that Dean can’t help but burst out laughing.

‘I don’t know, man. You believe her?’ he replies.

‘She seemed quite certain of it.’

Dean snorts. ‘Dude, did you not realise I was trying to drag you away from that whole… situation going on back there?’

‘Of course I did – but I was happy to humour her a little,’ Cas replies, one corner of his mouth turning up in a wry smile.

Their room is just a few feet down the corridor, and Cas is about to turn the key in the lock when Dean places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

‘Wait, Cas. Are you… uh. Are you okay with this?’

‘With what?’

Dean shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other and bites his lower lip. ‘With, you know – sharing a bed. I mean, I can go back and get another room if you want. I can afford it.’

‘Why?’ Cas asks, tilting his head. Once again, while Dean’s far too aware of how awkward this moment is, Cas seems genuinely oblivious.

Dean sighs impatiently. ‘If it feels like we’re going too fast or something.’

‘Honestly, Dean,' Cas replies, with a frown, ‘Do you mean to tell me you’ve never had a one-night stand before?’

Christ, Dean wasn’t expecting that. His temperature rises ten degrees, and he could swear he actually feels his face turn red. Why does Cas have to bring it up sex now? They haven’t even kissed properly yet. Where the hell is he going with this?

‘Yeah,’ Dean mumbles. He avoids eye contact, focusing at a spot on the carpet instead. It’s true, he had a couple of one-night stands at house parties in high school, drunken fumbles in spare bedrooms with girls who probably didn’t even know his name. They were fun at the time, but left Dean with a sour taste in his mouth and an empty feeling in his gut afterwards. As much as he used to brag about that kind of thing to guys at school, they’re not memories he’s particularly proud of, and certainly not the kind of thing he wants to bring up with his boyfriend, of all people.

‘So you’re telling me you’d feel more comfortable sharing a bed with someone you’d just met, than you would sharing with me?’ Cas asks.

‘God, no. I didn’t mean it like that, and come on, it’s not like I don’t want to. It’s just… do you think we’re going too fast?’

‘Not at all. It’s you, Dean. You mean a lot to me. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Dean replies. He looks up at Cas and smiles. ‘Forget it. I’m overthinking all of this, huh?’

‘Yes, you are,’ Cas says, and just like that, the conversation is over. He opens the door, takes Dean’s hand, and leads him inside.

The room is small but comfortable, and everything looks spotless, which Dean reckons is all the more wonderful considering how shitty last night’s motel was. There’s a vast window covering most of the far wall, and the view is just as great as Dean hoped. It’s a little hard to make out much when it’s dark, but he’s pretty sure he can see the fringes of Central Park in the distance, partially hidden behind a maze of rooftops. Their bed is colossal, like nothing Dean’s ever seen before – he kicks off his shoes and falls back onto it, satisfied with the springiness of the mattress and softness of the quilt. When Dean glances up at Cas, he’s standing by the window, admiring the view.

‘It’s awesome, huh?’ Dean says, smiling.

‘It should be even better in the day, too,’ Cas replies, through a yawn. He pads over to the bed, leans down and runs a gentle hand through Dean’s hair. ‘I think I should go to bed.’

Dean undresses in the bathroom once Cas has finished brushing his teeth, feeling a little weird at the idea of doing it in front of him. Cas is already wrapped up in bed when he returns, so Dean switches off the light and climbs in next to him. Cas pulls up the covers around them and sidles up as close to Dean as he can, pressing the length of his body to Dean’s side. In the darkness and stillness of the room, Dean becomes hyper-aware of their proximity, the sound of Cas’ breath, the rise and fall of his chest and the heat of his body.

Dean’s about to roll over when Cas murmurs his name, placing a gentle hand on Dean’s jaw to stop him. Then Cas leans up towards him, presses their mouths together and kisses him, for real this time. Dean doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate – he lets go of his nerves and lets instinct take over, kissing Cas back over and over until his lips are swollen and his mouth feels numb.

He drifts off to sleep with Cas’ head nestled against his shoulder, one arm draped over his chest, and Cas’ fingers splayed across his heart.

 

** Tuesday **

 

You learn something new every day, so they say. Dean’s lesson for today is that Cas is not a morning person.

Dean’s awake by eight thirty, showered and dressed by nine. He’s too excited, too eager to see the city and spend another day with Cas to stay in bed. Cas, on the other hand, remains dead to the world, buried so deep under the covers all Dean can make out is a huge lump of quilt and the tiniest glimpse of bedhead.

Restless by nine thirty, Dean decides to go for a walk, bring back some breakfast and coffee in the hope that caffeine might be the one thing to entice Cas out of bed. Even switching on the TV did nothing to disturb him, and the only thing worth watching seemed to be the pay-per-view porn. Dean was tempted to check it out, but he figured it wasn’t appropriate for the current situation.

Outside, the sun is shining brilliantly and it’s already warm, and Dean doesn’t want to waste a second of the day. He’s still a little nervous, still gets jittery when Cas smiles at him or stares a little too long, but the nerves he feels today are nothing compared to yesterday, and they’re tangled up with so much excitement that he’s struggling to distinguish between the two. They conquered the first physical hurdle last night, and that already feels like a huge step in the right direction. There’s a spring in his step as he heads out of the hotel lobby and down the street.

He buys a box of doughnuts and two cups of strong, black coffee (remembering to order an obscene amount of sugar for Cas) from a small kiosk at the end of the block and heads back up to the hotel. Back in their room, he crawls onto the bed on his hands and knees and pokes at Cas’ shoulder until he finally begins to stir. Cas shifts a little, emitting some kind of noise which could be a groan, before pulling up the covers until they’re bunched around his chin. Disappointed with this result, Dean eventually resorts to the fail-safe option of getting up and opening the curtains. Cas groans loudly at the sudden burst of sunlight and shoves a pillow over his head, and Dean grins triumphantly. At least he’s conscious now.

Cas finally gets up after that, though he’s still reluctant, emerging from the covers with bleary eyes and a scowl. Luckily, this disappears the moment he sees their breakfast. Cas eats two doughnuts in record time, finishes his coffee in four long gulps and rummages around in his backpack for the map he picked up at the airport yesterday. Dean finds a complimentary hotel pen on the desk in the corner of their room, and they sit cross-legged on the bed with the map spread between them, planning everything they want to see before they leave.

‘You first, Dean.’

‘All right – Coney Island,’ Dean says. Cas searches the map, skimming a finger across Brooklyn, and encompasses it in a large circle of blue pen once he’s found it.

‘Anything else?’

‘The Empire State Building?’ Dean suggests.

‘I wanted to see that, too,’ Cas replies, drawing another circle.

Cas already ordered their tickets for the Statue of Liberty a couple of weeks back, and they agree on most of the other big sights – Times Square, Liberty Island and Central Park all get their respective labels. Beyond that, Dean’s open to Cas’ ideas, so he suggests a cathedral he’d like to visit, and some landmarks he wants to take pictures of if they have the time. That should be enough for four days.

 

* * *

 

It’s windy as hell at the top of the Empire State Building, and access to the observation deck cost a small fortune. Dean’s got to admit it’s worth it, though. In this weather, they can see for miles, across Manhattan and over to Brooklyn, Queens and New Jersey.

Just before they leave, Cas takes out their map, neatly tucked away in a back pocket of his jeans, tears off one corner and releases it into the wind. Dean watches in bemusement as a gust propels the tiny paper triangle high in the air, before it drifts down to the streets below. When Cas turns back to him, Dean gives him a shrug and a puzzled look.

‘I was making a wish,’ Cas says nonchalantly, ‘And I couldn’t think of any other way of doing it, unless you’re suddenly going to produce some birthday candles for me to blow out. Which would be nice, though it’s not my birthday for another two months.’

‘I didn’t know that was even a thing,’ Dean replies, and without thinking, reaches for Cas’ hand. ‘You really believe in that? Luck, wishing, all of that stuff?’

‘Yes,’ Cas replies, ‘And I’m sure you’d appreciate what I wished for.’

‘Go on, then.’

‘I can’t tell you. I want it to come true.’

 

* * *

 

They decide to spend the rest of the day exploring the city on foot.

In reality, it goes a little more like this – they’ll walk a few feet, maybe make it to the end of the block, before Cas will reach for his camera and pause to take a picture. Dean barely noticed the first time he stopped, continued walking (and talking) for a good fifteen feet before he realised Cas had mysteriously vanished from his side. Dean knows Cas is a keen photographer, and he’s seen plenty of Cas’ pictures on Facebook, mostly shots of the beach near his house. Cas has a fancy camera too, a professional-looking hulk of a thing with a massive lens that he keeps on a lanyard around his neck. Dean’s no expert, but he reckons Cas’ photos are pretty great, that he has a good eye for it.

Dean’s happy to let Cas take pictures, but he’ll draw the line at Cas actually taking pictures of him _._ At one point, he notices Cas trying to sneak a shot and shoves a hand over the lens, making a playful attempt to wrestle the camera away from him. They play fight on the sidewalk like a couple of love-struck teenagers (which is half true, Dean’s not twenty for another six months) until Cas grabs his waist and silences him with a kiss. He’s not playing fair, but Dean admits defeat all the same.

Wandering aimlessly is strangely enjoyable, and they discover some interesting parts of the city this way, tucked away from the obvious tourist routes – but with no clear plan of where they’re going, it’s easy to get lost. Eventually Dean insists on stopping, tugs the neatly-folded map from the back pocket of Cas’ jeans and spreads it out against the side of a phone booth to examine it. They want to see Times Square, but they’ve got to figure out how to get there first.

‘Dude, where even are we? What does that sign say?’ Dean asks.

Cas strolls the twenty feet or so to the end of the block, uses his hand as a visor against the sun and squints up at a street sign. God, Dean would never dare use the word ‘adorable’ out loud, but he reckons it’s quite fitting for Cas. He loves that little head-tilt Cas does when he’s confused, too.

‘East forty-ninth,’ Cas calls.

‘Where’s Broadway?’ Dean asks, tilting the map.

Cas huffs, walks back over and rests his chin on Dean’s shoulder, examining the map. ‘It’s back the way we came,’ he says, pointing. ‘We’ll get to Times Square if we follow it down.’

Sure enough, it’s there, an inch below Cas’ finger and enclosed by a wide circle of blue pen. After some thorough double-checking of street names, they finally make it there by mid-afternoon.

 

* * *

 

The heat reaches stifling levels by mid-afternoon. The sidewalks blister under the scorching sun, the air is thick and heavy, and Cas is convinced there’ll be a thunderstorm tomorrow.

They retreat to the first café they find as soon as they reach Times Square, admitting defeat against the July sun. They figure out which table is closest to an AC vent before deciding where to sit, even if it means sitting at the back and compromising their view outside. Looking at the menu, it seems this place is mostly a coffee shop, though it’s way too hot for that now. Luckily there’s food too, and more importantly, desserts, which offer the prospect of something cold. Cas orders sorbet for himself and ice cream for Dean, and Dean asks to look through his pictures while they wait.

Just as Dean expected, the pictures are fantastic. By what kind of sorcery, Dean’s not entirely sure, but Cas has made some of the buildings and streets they’ve seen today look fifty times better in photograph than they’d looked in real life.

‘Cas, they’re awesome. You’re great at this.’

‘Thank you, Dean.’

Ice cream in this heat is amazing, like an oasis in a desert. Dean’s eyes drift to Cas while he eats, and Christ, Dean’s starting to think they shouldn’t eat around each other. It draws way too much attention to Cas’ mouth, a part of him that Dean’s already a little too fixated on, anyway. Dean’s fascinated by it, by his hands, the way he swirls the spoon between his fingers, and tries not to stare, though Cas has been staring at him all day. Cas doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he clearly doesn’t mind too much.

 

* * *

 

‘What am I supposed to wear, Cas?’

It’s just after seven, and Dean's sitting at the end of their bed, staring blankly at the open closet in front of him. He’s wearing a t-shirt and the only pair of jeans he could find that aren’t ripped or smeared in grease stains from tinkering with his car. They’re about to go out and eat, and Cas has insisted on paying tonight, as Dean paid for the pizza yesterday. Dean's looking forward to the prospect of a free meal – he’s never really dated a guy before, and always insisted on paying with girls. It feels good not to, except there’s one tiny problem – Cas is refusing to tell him where they’re going, and Dean has zero clue what he should wear. He doesn’t want to embarrass Cas if it ends up being someplace fancy and he’s underdressed.

'Whatever you like,' Cas replies, padding out of the bathroom. He's barefoot, but otherwise fully dressed, clean-shaven, and the fine curls of hair around the back of his neck are still damp from the shower. He’s wearing a pink shirt this time, which looks stupidly good on him, and Dean’s relieved to see that he’s wearing jeans too. Maybe this won’t be too fancy after all.

‘It’s nowhere formal. Do you honestly think I can afford to take you to a five-star restaurant?’ Cas says, ruffling Dean’s hair and kissing the crown of his head.

‘Can’t you just tell me where we’re going?’

‘I want it to be a surprise. I promise you’ll like it, Dean.’

Dean pads over to the closet, grabs a shirt and changes in the bathroom. He returns to the bedroom when he's done, and waits patiently as Cas adjusts his collar. Cas doesn’t quite seem to grasp the concept of personal space, and he’s standing a lot closer to Dean than is totally necessary right now. God, that mouth – Dean’s staring again, and his mind starts to wander. Cas’ lips are just a fraction away from his, and it'd be so easy to lean in and kiss him, manoeuver him backwards until his knees hit the bed – then Dean could taste his neck, find out what noise Cas would make when Dean bites at the soft flesh below his jaw.

But then Cas moves away, goes to find his socks and shoes, and Dean’s left with flared cheeks and a guilty conscience, perplexed by his own thought process. At what point did he go from being anxious to just _kiss_ the guy, to daydreaming about getting him into bed? 

You know what? Maybe it’ll happen this week, and maybe it won’t. If Cas is ready, then they’ll go for it – and if he doesn’t want to, or if Dean loses his nerve at the last minute, would it really matter? Dean loves Cas, he knows Cas loves him, and the last thing he would want to do, at any point this week, is cheapen the moment. They’ve been waiting months to be here with each other. Hell, if this was purely about physical attraction they probably wouldn’t be here right now. Sex, if it happens, would just be the icing on top of an already massive cake.

Dean finds his shoes, takes Cas’ hand as they leave and doesn’t let go until they reach the restaurant.

 

* * *

 

Cas knows him well, and chose wisely. Dinner turns out to be awesome – it’s a steakhouse-type place, a little more upmarket than what Dean’s used to, but it’s not too fancy and the food is incredible. Dean orders three huge courses (though he ends up splitting the dessert with Cas) and eats so much he’s convinced he won’t be able to stand afterwards.

Dean silently curses Cas for being twenty-one when he orders a couple of drinks. Dean’s no stranger to booze himself, and he’s snuck into plenty of back-road bars at home, but he doesn’t want to risk it here – spending a night in jail would be sure-fire way to ruin the week. Cas grows increasingly flirty after just a couple of beers, and Dean reckons he’d make a fun drunk. He hopes he’ll get to prove that theory someday – as soon as Dean turns twenty-one, they can go out to a proper bar and get shitfaced together.

It feels like a real date (Dean wonders if that’s why sex was on his mind), and it’s pretty awesome. Dean pauses in the doorway as they leave to thank Cas for taking him out.

Cas is only a little tipsy, but he’s definitely a little more touchy-feely than usual, slipping his arm around Dean’s waist and pulling him close as they walk. They’re only a couple of minutes from Central Park, and though they both agree it’d be much better in the day, they decide to go have a sneak preview tonight. It’s not too late, and they’re nowhere near tired yet.

 

* * *

 

Aside from the occasional jogger or late-night dog walker, the park is quiet. Outside of their hotel room, Dean reckons this is the only place so far where he’s really felt alone with Cas.

They walk slowly, enjoying the still-warm air and last remnants of daylight before the sun sinks fully below the horizon. Cas points out a sign advertising boat rentals as they near the lake, though Dean’s not entirely convinced by the idea. He reckons boats are only interesting when there’s fishing involved, and it just seems like another overpriced gimmick for tourists. Sure, they are tourists, but maybe there are better things to spend their money on. He says he’ll think about it.

Cas wants to revisit the Betheseda fountain during the day, complaining that it’s no use taking pictures in the dark, they won’t turn out right. For the time being, though, it’s a perfect spot to sit and enjoy the quietness of the park. Sitting on the edge of the fountain, Dean leans over and kisses Cas, stretching it out as long as he can, savouring it. He leans down to nestle his head in the crook of Cas’ shoulder, enjoying his warmth and the softness of his shirt, breathing in the sweet smell of aftershave on his neck.

He’s beginning to feel a lot more comfortable being close to Cas like this, and he wants to quit overthinking so much. It’s not like that’s gotten him anywhere so far. He wants to make the most of their time together, in a physical sense as much as anything else – after all, they’ve got less than four days left in the city.

‘I hope you’ve enjoyed this week so far, Dean,’ Cas mumbles quietly against the top of Dean’s head.

‘You kidding me? Of course I have.’

‘Can we rent a boat out on the lake next time?’

Dean chuckles. ‘Maybe – I don’t know, man. What if I get seasick?’

‘I’ll take care of you.’

 

* * *

 

Dean doesn’t know exactly what time it is when they reach the hotel, but it must be late. It’s quiet enough to hear the hum of the air conditioning, the lights in the lobby are dimmed, and they’re alone when they step in the elevator.

Which is probably just as well, because they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Dean reckons this has been building all evening, a slow burn, increasing in temperature with every ounce of confidence they gain around each other. They kiss all the way back to the hotel, growing harder each time; Cas’ hand starts to slip lower and lower down Dean’s waist, and their gentle touches subside into clutching and grabbing at one another. Dean’s bricking it at where he thinks (knows?) this isleading, but there’s also an irresistible warmth spreading through his body, a hammering heart in his chest and a tiny voice at the back of his head whispering _do it._

In the elevator, Dean backs Cas up against one mirrored wall and kisses him hard, his mouth travelling in an uneven line across Cas’ jaw, behind his ear and down his neck. They’re so absorbed in one another they almost forget to exit at the fourteenth floor, and Dean chuckles when he reaches over to re-open the elevator doors. His hands are shaking when they reach their room, Cas’ mouth hot on the back of his neck as he fumbles for the key. It takes three attempts before he manages to get the door open, shoving it aside as he pulls Cas into the room after him.

Cas is too preoccupied with Dean to bother turning on the light, grabbing him by the hips and pinning him up against the wall (and fuck,he’s stronger than Dean thought) as soon as they’re inside, dipping his head to plant a messy trail of kisses down Dean’s neck. Dean grabs at him clumsily, balls the collar of Cas’ shirt in his fist and stifles a moan when Cas bites down hard on his pulse point.

‘Do you want me?’ Cas mumbles against Dean’s neck, his voice rough.

Dean grins, pushes his hips forward and gives an affirmative hum, running his fingers through Cas’ hair. Cas inches upwards, bites at Dean’s earlobe, and then, right against his ear, breathes:

‘Do you want to fuck me?’

… and _there_ it is. Six simple words, but the charge in Cas’ voice when he says them, and what they imply, is enough to send an icy-hot shiver down Dean’s spine.

‘Seriously?’

Cas lifts his head, meets Dean’s eyes and fixes him with a determined stare, and Dean reckons he could take down a small army with that look alone.

‘Are you…’ Dean pauses, trying to find the right words. ‘I mean, are you sure? Are you even ready…’

Then he remembers the absurdly long amount of time Cas spent in the shower earlier, remembers wondering whathe was doing in there that was taking so goddamn long and… oh. _Oh._ Maybe this isn’t as spontaneous as it seems, after all.

Dean’s heart is racing at the prospect of what he’s about to ask, of what they’re about to do _._

‘You have lube?’

Cas nods.

‘Condoms?’

Another nod, accompanied by a smile.

Dean exhales slowly, letting his head fall back against the wall. He holds Cas’ gaze, and there’s a few seconds of silence while his brain catches up, and makes a vain attempt to process all of this.

‘You _planned_ this?’ Dean says at last, grinning.

Cas inches even closer and shifts his weight, so that one thigh is pressed up between Dean’s legs, and begins to circle his hips ever so slightly, just enough to build up a delicious amount of friction between them.

‘I… anticipated it.’

_‘Fuck.’_

Dean nudges Cas off him and hurriedly kicks off his shoes, not caring where they end up in the morning. Cas discards his too, and once he’s done, Dean places a hand on his chest and pushes against him gently, steering him backwards until his knees hit the bed. It’s a wonderful echo of his daydream a few hours earlier - except this is better, because it’s real, and Cas is warm, eager and more pliant under his touch than Dean could have imagined. Cas falls back against the mattress with ease and shuffles up to the pillows on his elbows, and Dean climbs on top of him, crawling his way up Cas’ body. He pauses to switch on the bedside lamp before meeting Cas’ mouth in a searing kiss.

It’s strangely easy now that there’s no pretence, no skirting around this, trying to gauge what the other wants and wondering how they should approach it. Cas has made it clear what he wants, and Dean isn’t afraid to ask him for clarification now – what feels good, what doesn’t. He wonders if this is going to change anything, if this is the final hurdle they have to cross together.

Dean kisses Cas with determination, on the mouth, across his jaw and down his neck, while Cas fumbles with Dean’s belt buckle, undoing it swiftly before reaching for his collar. They unbutton one another’s shirts with trembling fingers and throw them to the floor, the end of the bed, wherever – Dean’s far too engrossed in Cas to care where their clothes end up. Cas is still a little light-headed from the alcohol and stifles a laugh as Dean wrestles him out of his jeans. If Dean’s learned one thing about sex over the years (and he’s learned many), it’s that undressing a partner is one of those things that’s wonderfully romantic in theory, but it’s usually clumsy and awkward in reality. This is definitely a little awkward, with their limbs and clothes tangling together, and Cas practically giggling like a teenage girl – this doesn’t make it any less exciting, though.

Cas finally manages to compose himself once their shirts and jeans are gone, and Dean makes the most of his newly-exposed skin, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses across his chest, slow and practiced, before making his way down Cas’ stomach, inching on his hands and knees. He stops just short of the waistband of Cas’ boxers and glances down at the outline of his cock, half-hard and just beginning to strain against the fabric.

He looks up at Cas then, gives him a playful smirk, and Cas practically growls at him, pushing his hips up towards Dean’s mouth. Dean slips his fingers under Cas’ waistband, ready to pull his boxers down when Cas stops him.

‘You first.’

God, he’s bossy – and Dean’s totally into it. He loves being ordered around in bed, whether by a guy or a girl, Dean doesn’t care. It’s always been a huge turn-on for him, and to find out Cas is naturally bossy (when he’s the one asking to be fucked, no less) is the cherry on top of the icing. He grins in response and does as he’s told, removing his own underwear before dealing with his boyfriend’s.

Now that they’re both naked, and Cas’ dick is just inches from Dean’s mouth, Dean notices Cas is uncircumcised. Dean’s never been with an uncut guy before, and he’s fascinated, propping himself up on one elbow, stroking and working Cas until he’s fully hard. Cas gasps at the first touch, his head falling back against the pillow, baring that long line of his neck again. Dean leans up, kisses him there and licks across his Adam’s apple until Cas pushes his head back down, impatient.

Dean teases at first, taking only the head of Cas’ cock into his mouth, working the rest with his hand. He presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the head, rolls it around on his tongue, teases the slit, watches Cas squirm and push his hips up until he can’t take it any longer. Then, without warning, Dean sinks down all the way down to the base, until Cas’ cock hits the back of his throat – he’s done this before, knows he can take it. The moan that escapes Cas’ mouth is so low and loud and wonderfully dirty, Dean’s pretty sure he doesn’t need to touch himself now, that he can get hard just listening to Cas and watching him writhe on the bed.

Cas doesn’t let Dean go down on him for long, ordering him onto his back after only a couple of minutes. As much as Dean’s enjoying this, he obeys, pulls off and rolls over, knowing there’s a lot more to come.

Cas returns the favour now, though with a lot less teasing – he takes all of Dean’s cock into his mouth, hollows his cheeks and sucks hard, bobbing his head enthusiastically. Shit, for all of his innocent blue eyes and gentle nature, Cas can deep throat like a fucking pro. Dean starts to wonder how many times he’s done this before, how many guys he’s been with (one of very few things they’ve never discussed), but then Cas ruts against the bed and fucking _moans_ around his cock, and Dean’s mind goes totally numb, his mind frazzled by how incredible that feels.

Cas pulls off quickly, cups Dean’s face in his hands and tells him not to come, they haven’t even gotten to the good part yet – but God, his voice is so fucking _hot_ when he says it, so deep and charged, it makes Dean feel like he’s going to lose it already.

Dean waits on the bed, stroking himself lazily as Cas gets up and pads over to his suitcase. He rummages around and returns with a small bottle of lube and a box of condoms, tossing them onto the bed.

‘Shit, you really did plan this. Think we’re gonna need more than one?’ Dean asks, gesturing to the condoms with raised eyebrows.

Cas chuckles, climbing on top of him. ‘For another night, maybe,’ he murmurs. Dean grins, arches up and kisses him, loving how eager he is.

Cas rolls off him, positioning himself on his stomach as Dean slicks up his fingers and climbs over to kneel between Cas’ thighs. He starts slow, circling and teasing, until Cas starts to whine and push back against his hand – then Dean eases one finger in, slowly and carefully, and Cas moans when he sinks all the way down to the knuckle. He works Cas gently, adding a second finger only when Cas tells him to, stretching and easing his body until Cas shudders, moans Dean’s name, reaches around and grabs his wrist.

‘Dean – I’m ready,’ he breathes. ‘I’m ready.’

Cas leans up on his elbows and knees as Dean tackles the always-difficult combination of condom and slick fingers, clutches at the pillow and arches his back, pushing his ass up towards Dean. As soon as he’s ready, Dean grabs Cas’ hips, positions himself carefully and pushes in.

Cas makes an unforgettable sound when he bottoms out, one Dean wants to record and listen to over and over again. He gives Cas time to adjust, leaning forward to kiss the nape of his neck and thread his fingers through sweat-damp hair, until Cas growls and pushes back against him, impatient. _‘Move.’_

So Dean does, watching Cas bury his face in the pillow as Dean pushes forward with all of his weight before pulling back. He sets himself on his hands and knees in a fast, steady rhythm that has Cas whining and pushing back against his cock, arching against his body like he can’t get enough of it. If Dean was a little less focused he might worry about getting a noise complaint – Cas moans loud, breathing Dean’s name on the deepest thrusts, ordering him to go _harder, deeper._ Dean complies as far as he can without hurting Cas, leaning down to kiss his neck, his shoulders, anywhere he can.

Cas falters when he reaches down to touch himself, so Dean slips one arm around him, across his chest, to hold him up. _‘It’s okay, babe, I got you. I got you.’_ From then on, everything builds to a climax – Cas’ hand working faster, his moans growing higher, his body clenching and tightening around Dean – reaching a peak, and then Cas is coming, his face buried into the pillow to stifle the noise he makes. The force of his orgasm sends shockwaves through his body and into Dean’s, and it only takes a few more thrusts before he’s coming too, biting Cas’ shoulder to silence himself.

Dean narrowly avoids collapsing on top of Cas, managing to pull out quickly and roll off to one side before his arms give out completely. He’s grinning like an idiot, feels like he wants to laugh or do something totally dorky like punch the air because of how mind-blowing that just was. Cas is lying on his stomach, staring up at Dean with a crooked, exhausted smile. Dean leans over, kisses him and goes to fetch a washcloth.

Cas is wrecked, long past the point of bossing Dean around now. He’s pliant, rolling over to get cleaned up, and runs a hand lazily through Dean’s hair when they kiss, slow and gentle this time.

When Dean returns from the bathroom, Cas is drifting off to sleep – he’s rolled over onto his side, his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. Dean pads over to the window, draws the curtains and switches off the light as he slips into bed behind Cas, pulling the covers around them. He sidles up close, wraps his arms tight around Cas’ waist, presses a soft kiss between his shoulder blades and nuzzles at the sweat-damp skin.

‘Cas?’

He hums in response, and Dean pauses. ‘I love you,’ he murmurs. They’ve both said it a hundred times before, but always in text, over the phone, via a shitty webcam, and it feels so much better to finally say it in person.

‘I love you too,’ Cas says.

 

** Wednesday **

 

Dean awakes in a warm, dishevelled bed to the gentle sound of rain and a distant rumble of thunder. Cas was right about the storm, after all. Dean opens his eyes slowly, waits until they adjust to the dull light of the room before he sits up and stretches, letting a few of his joints crack. Cas is fast asleep next to him - he's still naked, his hair is even more of a mess than usual, and the sheet is pooled about his hips. It's a perfect reminder of the night before, and Dean smiles at the memory, leaning over and smothering Cas’ shoulders in kisses until he stirs.

‘Dean?’ Cas mumbles, his voice rough when it breaks.

‘Morning.’

‘What time is it?’

Dean turns over, glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Three minutes past nine. ‘Still kind of early,’ he says. ‘Want to go back to sleep?’

‘No, it’s all right,’ Cas replies, rolling over to face him. Dean’s surprised, considering the amount of trouble it took to get him conscious yesterday – maybe the sex turned him soft. Cas smiles, cups Dean’s face in his hands and kisses him, unfazed by stubble and the possibility of morning breath.

‘Good morning.’

‘You were right about the rain,’ Dean says, gesturing towards the window.

Cas hums sleepily, rolls over onto his back and stretches out his whole body like a cat, arching off the bed. ‘Well, considering that, I propose we stay in bed.’

Dean chuckles. ‘What, for the whole day?’

‘Until the rain subsides.’

‘All right. Yeah, I can get on board with that. I gotta take a shower first though – don’t sweat, I’ll be back,’ Dean says, kissing Cas’ forehead. ‘Promise.’

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, pausing just before he stands up. ‘By the way,’ he adds, turning back to Cas, ‘Are we gonna talk about how mind-blowing last night was?’

He’s seen Cas chuckle a few times, and smile when Dean’s said something stupid or cracked a terrible joke, but Cas really laughs at that, turning a little red in the process.

‘Is that the adjective you would use?’ he replies. ‘I suppose it’s quite fitting. Though I was thinking a little more along the lines of sensational, fantastic, spectacular…’

‘All right, I get the point. Jesus,’ Dean replies with a grin, climbing out of bed and padding towards the bathroom. He’s pretty sure he’s just turned red, too. ‘Don’t get smart on me, man. I get enough of that at home with my brother.’

‘Would you like to order room service?’ Cas calls after him.

Dean stops when he reaches the bathroom door, turning back and winking at Cas. ‘See, _now_ you’re speaking my language.’

Cas has tidied up a little when Dean returns from the shower - he's gathered up their clothes and rescued a pillow from the floor, and made the bed. He’s dressed too, in boxers and one of Dean’s t-shirts, a faded Metallica shirt worn soft from years of use. Once Dean’s dried and dressed, he finds the number for room service.

‘How hungry are you, Cas?’

‘Ravenous. You?’

‘Good, I was hoping you’d say that. Get anything you want. Your wish is my command,’ Dean announces, miming a bow as he holds the receiver to his ear.

Dean’s starving too, and he knows as he’s ordering that he’s going a little overboard with this. He orders coffee, bacon and eggs, two rounds of pancakes, maple syrup, hash browns and waffles, and Cas wants fruit, so Dean asks for as many different kinds as he can think of. He’s becoming increasingly sure he’ll be broke once this vacation is over, and might have to work overtime at the diner on weekends, or beg his parents for a loan just to afford gas and his phone bill for the next few months – but right now, he figures a little overindulgence won’t hurt too much.

True to Cas’ word, they eat in bed, facing one another cross-legged, and Dean’s about to shovel the first forkful of bacon into his mouth when Cas pipes up. ‘Can I ask you a question? It’s about last night.’

Dean blinks at him and chews slowly. ‘You’re seriously asking me about sex now?’ he replies, through his mouthful. ‘While we’re eating?’

‘Do you think that’s inappropriate?’

‘Kind of,’ Dean chuckles. ‘But I’m curious, so you gotta tell me now.’

‘Was I the best you ever had?’

Dean pauses. ‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘You were mine too.’

Dean smiles. He’s trying to playing it cool, but that’s high praise, and he’s proud of it. ‘Listen, there’s… uh, something I wanted to say, too. About last night, I mean.’

‘Of course.’

Dean feels his cheeks flare at what he’s about to say, but he reckons it’s necessary, if their next time is to be just as good as the first. He doesn’t want to spell it out exactly, so he chooses his words carefully. ‘I really liked… you being in charge,’ he says slowly, ‘If you get what I mean.’

‘Good,’ Cas replies. ‘I like it too.’

Dean grins, scratching the back of his neck a little sheepishly. ‘It’s weird, you know,’ he continues, ‘I feel like we talked about everything before, but sex was one of the only things that never came up.’

‘Well, it seems a little absurd to be uncomfortable talking about it now.’

Dean chuckles. ‘Yeah, I guess. Since we’re, uh, on the subject – can I ask you something I thought about last night? It’s kind of personal.’

‘Of course.’

Dean pauses. ‘How many… people have you been with? Like, all together.’

Cas hesitates, cocks his head to one side in consideration. ‘Nine - five guys, including you, and four girls,’ he says slowly. 

Dean raises his eyebrows at that. He likes to think he’s got a decent amount of experience for his age (though he often forgets that Cas is older than him), but it turns out Cas has been around the block a few more times than Dean has. No wonder he was so good at it.

‘Were you, like… with all of those people, or were they just hook-ups?’ Dean asks.

‘The latter, mostly. I’ve only had a couple of what I might call “relationships” before you,’ Cas does little air quotes as he says it, and Dean has to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing. It’s cute, but seriously dorky.

‘I had a girlfriend, Meg, for almost a year in high school, and she was the first person I ever fell in love with,’ Cas says. ‘I had a couple of boyfriends in my freshman year of college too, but nothing serious. You’re definitely the most serious relationship I’ve had, by quite a long shot.’

Dean feels a warm swell of pride in his chest at that. It’s true for him, too. Though their circumstances are a little unusual, Dean’s never felt this serious about anyone before, and he’s never had another relationship that’s lasted as long as this one. It’s hard to define how long he’s really been with Cas, though. They never technically dated, though Dean would say that they were dating – he’d usually leave out the whole Internet thing, that part always seemed too difficult to explain. Dean wonders how long have they really have been together. Would it be since they began talking? Since they added one another on Facebook? Or since the first time Cas said ‘I love you?’ (Because of course he said it first, the sap.)

‘Same here,’ Dean replies. ‘Why were you on a dating site in the first place? Sounds like you ain’t got a problem meeting anyone. No reason you should, either.’

‘I suppose most of the people I meet are at college, and most of them don’t seem interested in anything long-term. I wanted something more than that, and I had nothing to lose signing up. I’m not too good at meeting people, either. I suppose I can be a little awkward at the best of times. I want to know why you were on there, too, because I would’ve thought you have no problem walking up to a stranger at a party and taking them home with you.’

Dean laughs. ‘Yeah, generally I don’t, but I had a stupid bet with Charlie that I could get a date before her. Long story short, I lost. I met you, though, so I feel like I still won in the end.’

‘Yes, the two of you seem very close. I’d definitely like to meet her sometime,’ Cas says, smiling. ‘How many people have you slept with? I refuse to divulge any more until you share a little, too.’

‘Uh, okay,’ Dean says, a little nervously. Cas can definitely be a little blunt sometimes. ‘As of last night, I’ve been with seven people. Three guys, four girls.’

‘Anything serious?’

Dean pauses, thinking back to high school. There was Cassie, and Dean supposes that things between them were pretty serious. They met in Biology class and dated most of their freshman year – she was his first love, and he lost his virginity to her, on the couch after lacrosse practice while his parents were at work and Sam was at a friend’s house. Then there was Benny, too – they’d never wanted to put a label on whatever it was between them, but if Dean had to define it, he’d say it was just a summer fling. It had a pretty big impact on Dean, though he would be reluctant to admit it. Benny was the first guy Dean had ever been with, and he reckons that must count for something.

‘I had a pretty serious girlfriend in high school, too,’ Dean says. ‘And I guess I had a boyfriend for a while. God, it feels weird to call him that. We worked together over the summer and spent a couple of months together. We kept it quiet, our parents never found out. I was seventeen and he was nearly twenty-two, so I don’t think they would’ve been too happy about it. He went back to Louisiana in the fall for college, so we ended it before it got too serious. It didn’t end bad or anything, we’re still friends. You know what’s funny? I ended it with him ‘cause I thought long distance wouldn’t work, and look at where you and I are now. Guess it can work out after all.’

‘With the right person, I think,’ Cas adds.

‘You calling yourself the right person?’

‘Maybe. I would be confident in saying you are the right person for me.’

‘Thanks, Cas,’ Dean replies, after a pause. Again, that’s high praise, and it catches Dean a little off guard.

It’s kind of odd, airing out their laundry like this, but the more Dean thinks about it, the more he realises it could be a good thing. He hasn’t discussed his dating or sexual history much before. Charlie knows who he’s been with, and he doesn’t mind discussing this kind of thing with his closest friends, but sharing it with your significant other is a little different. Dean hopes that there’ll be no skeletons lurking in either of their closets after this, and they’re being as open and honest with one another as they can. There’s nothing wrong with a secret or two, but Dean trusts that Cas would never go out of his way to hide anything from him. They care too much about one another, and Cas just doesn’t seem like that kind of person.

‘Can I ask you something else?’ Cas asks.

‘Sure.’

Cas hesitates, placing his bowl in his lap and poking at the pieces of fruit with his spoon, nudging them around. ‘At what age did you… come out?’ he asks slowly. ‘I mean, I’m assuming you identify as something other than straight.’

‘Uh… it was just after Benny went back to college – so seventeen, I guess,’ Dean replies. ‘I mean, I never wanted to label myself, but yeah, I told my family I liked guys, and they were okay with it. My mom and my brother were totally cool – my dad’s still kinda weird about it, but he never said anything bad to me. I think he’s getting there, it’s just taking a while.’

Dean pauses, taking a sip of coffee. ‘What about you?’

‘Not until I was nineteen, almost twenty. You know my family is religious, right?’

Dean nods. There was a brief period of time when his mom would drag the family along to church on Sundays. She gave up when Sam was three, tired of dealing with two noisy, petulant boys (Dean used to irritate Sam on purpose so they could leave early) and having half the congregation stare bitterly at her through the sermon. Dean hasn’t been since and doesn’t care much for the idea of a God. He’ll believe it if and when he finds some solid proof, but he doubts that’ll ever happen. Cas has spoken about his family before, and it sounds like they made a lot more effort to raise him religious than Dean’s did. Cas had doubts for years, and abandoned his faith a few years ago – going to college allowed him some freedom, but his parents are still devout believers.

‘Our church is quite open-minded, and I felt extremely lucky that my parents were supportive,’ Cas explains. ‘We haven’t told anyone else in the family though, I don’t think my grandparents would have quite the same reaction. I’ve been reluctant to apply a label to myself, too. All I know is that gender seems quite irrelevant to me. I’d still feel the same way about you, regardless.’

 

* * *

 

It’s still wet outside by midday, so they order in for lunch too, and end up staying in bed until mid-afternoon. They talk some more, watch a movie on Cas’ laptop, progressing somewhere along the way into a pretty incredible make-out session. Their hands and mouths start to wander, and it all culminates in Cas inching his way down Dean’s body, pushing up the hem of his shirt and pulling down the waist of his boxers, working him first with his hand, and then with his mouth. Dean gladly returns the favour afterwards, and it’s better than the previous night – they’re in no hurry, and he doesn’t feel quite the same need to impress Cas this time around. Cas loved his technique last night, and he loves it now too, running his fingers through Dean’s hair and thrusting up into his mouth.

Dean drags Cas out of bed once the rain eases off. ‘Come on, man. Do you really want to waste the whole day?’

‘I don’t know if “waste” would be the exact word I would use. Isn’t there some quote about time not being wasted if you enjoyed yourself?’ Cas replies.

They get showered and dressed, and examine Cas’ map. After some careful studying, they decide on Coney Island, figuring it’s the only item on their list that’d be just as good in the evening as it would during the day. Cas plans the subway route on his phone while Dean brushes his teeth.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s never been on the subway before. He’s only been on a train once before this, when his grandma was in hospital and his mom took Dean and Sam to see her. They only had one car back then, and his dad had taken it out of town for work - that car is now Dean’s, handed down to him on his seventeenth birthday. Three-year-old Sam loved the train, pressing his tiny hands up to the windows and giggling throughout the journey, while Dean sulked in his seat, hiding his frown behind the pages of a comic book.

He doesn’t think much of the subway now, either. It’s fine when they’ve above ground, but the tunnels are too hot, too dark and smell kind of weird, and everything becomes a little claustrophobic. Cas, intuitive as always, must sense that Dean’s a little uncomfortable, because he places a gentle hand on Dean’s knee and squeezes every time they enter another tunnel. It helps a little. Dean would be happier driving everywhere, just as he does at home, but heading back from the airport on Monday taught him that public transport is ten times quicker than a car journey around here.

It’s a relief when they finally emerge from the station. Although it’s late afternoon, the sun is still high against a backdrop of pale blue sky, and it’s a little cooler than yesterday, the rain taking the edge off the heat. Dean hears the sound of rides, laughter and screams as soon as they reach the boardwalk. He hasn’t been on any kind of ride since the last time he went to the county fair, and that must have been years ago. He’s looking forward to this.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s groaning and walking lopsidedly, rubbing at a sore point on his thigh when they climb out of the bumper cars. Cas looks genuinely concerned and overreacts a little, stopping to ask Dean if he's all right and suggesting they sit down.

‘I’m good, Cas,’ Dean says, winking.

Dean always reckoned he was an expert on the bumper cars, and he remembers getting the better of Sam plenty of times when they were kids, but Cas proved to be better than he expected. Not to mention the small army of ten-year-olds they were pitted against were nothing short of violent. Dean’s going to wake up with a bruise tomorrow, he’s sure of it. He felt a little ridiculous squashed up in that tiny car, they’re definitely not designed for anyone over six feet, and he’s probably too old for this shit. He’s having way too much fun to care, though.

There’s a glint in Cas’ eye when they pass by a rollercoaster, but Dean is quick to eliminate that idea before Cas can begin to verbalise it. Dean explains in the politest terms that there is no fucking way on God’s green Earth he’d ever set foot on one of those things – Cas could hand him a blank check and ask him to write any amount on it, and Dean still wouldn’t budge. He agrees to the Wonder Wheel, though – it’s high, but at least it moves at a pace he can stomach. Once they reach the top, Dean realises it was totally worth it, just for the awesome panorama of Brooklyn they’re met with up there. It doesn’t quite match the view from the top of the Empire State, but it’s still pretty damn impressive.

In the arcade, Dean tries out one of those ‘Test Your Strength’ machines while Cas goes to investigate the snack stalls nearby. He swings the rubber mallet as hard as he can and ends up just a couple of bars off the highest score, and he’s pretty happy with that. All those hours spent fixing his car, and couple of years he spent on the lacrosse team in high school seem to have paid off. There’s a kid watching him just a few feet away, with floppy hair and a pair of too-big glasses hanging off the end of his nose. Minus the glasses, he reminds Dean of Sam when he was younger.

‘Wanna know how to do it?’ Dean asks, gesturing to the machine.

The kid looks fascinated, nodding and approaching him slowly. Dean hands him a couple of quarters for the machine and teaches him the proper technique, how to position his feet and get the tightest grip on the mallet, how to lift it behind his head and swing his arms with as much force as he can. He only gets four bars up, but Dean makes a big deal out of it, congratulating him with a slap on the back. He knows how much kids appreciate that kind of thing.

Dean and Cas have a go at a handful of stalls each, but neither of them gets close to actually winning anything until Cas tries his hand at shooting targets with an air rifle. Cas has a steady hand and plenty of determination, and he quickly disproves Dean’s long-held theory that those things were always rigged and impossible to win at. There are three shelves of stuffed animals to choose from, and Cas gets to pick whichever one he wants. He chooses a huge owl in the end, at least four feet tall, with dark brown feathers and saucer-shaped blue eyes, giving it a permanently frightened expression. Cas rolls his eyes when Dean teases that it looks like him – it kind of does, though.

They run out of change after an hour in the arcade, and it seems like they’ve exhausted most of the games that are worth playing. They head back out onto the boardwalk, buy hot dogs and fries (two portions, because Cas likes mayo on his and Dean thinks that’s gross) from a food truck and eat on a bench overlooking the beach.

Dean’s always thought he was a bit of a glutton when it comes to food, and he’s able to stuff himself silly if given the chance (which is pretty often, with the way his mom feeds him), but Cas might just be able to outdo him, especially when it comes to sweets. He drank two cups of sickeningly sweet coffee this morning, and worked his way through two sticks of cotton candy and a bag of peanut butter cups while they were in the arcade. Dean wonders how Cas isn’t morbidly obese and how he still has all his teeth.

‘The beach always reminds me of home,’ Cas says fondly, staring out at the ocean. The sun is beginning to set now, casting the water’s surface in a golden glow. ‘I suppose the ocean is never hard to come by in Maine, but I don’t usually have the time to visit when I’m at college. I’d actually have to make a trip, and I don’t make any effort at home. I’ve gotten so accustomed to it being right there in front of me, every single day.’

‘You know, I’ve never been to the beach before,’ Dean replies nonchalantly, taking a bite out of his hot dog. ‘This is the first time I’ve ever seen the ocean.’

Cas turns and stares at him as if Dean just announced that he enjoys murdering puppies in his spare time. ‘I cannot possibly let you leave here without setting foot on a beach. We’re going out there as soon as we’re done.’

So, after they finish their food, they take off their shoes and socks and head out towards the water. They roll up their jeans and leave their shoes and Cas’ owl on the sand, as close to the shore as possible without any danger of them getting wet. Cas takes Dean’s hand as they step out into the small, gentle waves rolling up against the sand, the cool water lapping around their ankles.

‘What do you think?’ Cas asks.

‘It’s weird. The good kind of weird, though,’ Dean replies, smiling.

Cas takes a few pictures of the ocean and the colourful lights of the fairground rides in the distance, making the most of the remaining light before the sun sets. They paddle until it gets dark, waiting until their feet turn cold before returning to land. Back on the beach, they realise that however much fun they had, paddling probably wasn’t a great idea after all. They didn’t have the foresight to bring a towel, so they sit on the sand and wait for their feet to dry off.

‘Is this the furthest you’ve ever been from home before?’ Cas asks, making a half-hearted attempt to rub the sand off one foot with the sleeve of his shirt.

‘Yeah, by a long shot,’ Dean says. ‘The furthest east I ever went before this was Chicago, furthest west was… Denver, I think. We don’t go on vacation much.’

‘Me neither, my parents are always too busy with work. The furthest west I’ve been is Ohio, and I have to admit it wasn’t particularly exciting.’

‘Well, I’ll show you Kansas sometime, Cas. It’s nothing special, though. I really wanna travel sometime, see more of the country. I mean, I wanted to before, but coming here has made me want it even more. Man, I’d hate to spend my whole life in the same town, and never see anything more than that.’

‘You do have a car. We should go on a road trip sometime. Maybe after I graduate.’

‘Yeah, I like that that idea,’ Dean replies.

‘We shouldn’t just say that we will, though. We really should.’

‘Hey, if you’re serious, so am I. It’d be an excuse to see you again.’

‘I hope we get to see one another sooner than that,’ Cas says, and there’s a small sigh at the end of it. Words aren’t needed to describe that feeling, Dean knows exactly what it is. He’s feeling it too. He’s having wonderful time this week, but he knows that there’s a huge downside to all this – saying goodbye on Saturday. There’s a sour feeling in Dean’s stomach when he considers that it could be months, maybe even a year until he next sees Cas, but he’s trying not to linger on that right now.

Once their shoes are on and they’re ready to leave, Cas picks up the owl and does as best he can to wipe the sand off its butt. ‘What do you think I should call him?’ he asks.

‘It’s a toy, Cas. It ain’t even a “he,”’ Dean replies, rolling his eyes.

‘Fine. What do you think I should call _her_ , if you think I’m being sexist?’

Dean sighs. ‘If it’s gonna be anything, it should be a he, ‘cause it looks like you. Call it Cas. Cas Junior, I don’t know.’

‘I still don’t see the resemblance.’

‘Dude, it’s there. You’re just not looking hard enough,’ Dean teases, taking Cas’ hand.

 

* * *

 

Dean only realises he dozed off on the subway ride back when Cas nudges him awake just before their stop. He’s squashed up between Cas and that goddamn owl, which seems to take up more room than Cas does. Naturally, they had to find an extra seat for it. Cas had given Dean the most horrified look when he suggested they put it on the floor, as if he'd glanced straight into the pits of Hell or something. The train is pretty full, so they had to walk through two carriages before they found three empty seats.

On their way back to the hotel, they pass a convenience store with two colourful racks of postcards outside, and Dean remembers that he promised to send one to Sam while they were here. Luckily, the store is still open, so Cas waits outside while Dean goes in to pay.

When he returns, Cas thrusts his phone within a few inches of Dean’s nose to show him the new wallpaper – it turns out he took a photo of them on the train, and it’s not the most flattering photo in the world. In fact, that’s an understatement – it’s probably the worst picture anyone has ever taken of Dean, aside from a few embarrassing baby photos. He’s fast asleep, with his nose scrunched up against Cas’ shoulder and his mouth hanging wide open – Cas, meanwhile, is composed and collected as ever, looking straight at the camera with a small, wry smile on his face.

‘Dude, seriously?’ Dean exclaims. He punches Cas playfully on the arm, and they both laugh. ‘Actually, you know what?’ he adds, ‘I bet Charlie would appreciate that.’

Dean gives her number to Cas – they’ve never spoken before, but Charlie knows pretty much everything there is to know about Cas, whether she likes it or not. Dean has probably mentioned him in every conversation they’ve had over the past eighteen months, and this seems as good a time as any to introduce them to one another, even if Charlie’s in Kansas for the summer and Cas is here on the East Coast. The miracle of technology never ceases to amaze. After a moment’s consideration, Dean and Cas decide on the caption between them.

**Sent 10:05 PM --  
** **It’s the city that never sleeps, but I guess Dean didn’t get the memo. (By the way, Charlie, it’s great to be formally introduced. Dean’s told me a lot about you.)**

 

* * *

 

Dean takes a long, hot shower back at the hotel and changes in the bedroom, unfazed about doing that in front of Cas now. He reckons that alone must be a pretty big sign of the progress they’ve made this week.

He collects his jeans from the floor, retrieves Sam’s postcard from the back pocket and climbs into bed next to Cas, who’s propped up against the pillows, flicking through the photos on his camera. Dean’s never sent a postcard before - he’s never really been anywhere interesting enough to bother. He likes the idea of it though, and if this road trip idea really does come to fruition next year, he’ll be sure to send one home from every state they visit. He sits and chews at the end of the pen for a moment before figuring out what to write.

_Sammy –_

_NYC is awesome. I would say wish you were here but I don’t know if I want my nerd of a baby brother following me around everywhere (dude, I’m kidding OK? Don’t throw a bitch fit) Saw Coney Island today, think we’re going to Central Park tomorrow. You’d like Cas. Hope you guys get to meet some day._

_Dean_

He licks a stamp and fixes it in the top right-hand corner, shuffles up close to Cas and leans down to rest his head on Cas’ chest, gesturing towards his camera. ‘I want to see them too. From the beginning.’

Cas clicks back to the first picture and flicks through them slowly, pausing to show Dean each one. He must’ve taken a couple hundred by now.

‘You gotta send me these sometime,’ Dean says. ‘I want to remember how awesome this week was.’

‘It’s not over yet,’ Cas murmurs, kissing Dean’s forehead.

Cas’ phone buzzes from the nightstand, and he reaches over to check it. Charlie has replied to his message, and a smile spreads across Cas’ face as he reads her reply before passing his phone to Dean.

**Received 10:41 PM  --  
** **Looks like you crazy kids are having fun! Nice to meet you too, Cas. Take care of him, alright? Or you’ll have me to answer to. ;-)**

 

** Thursday**

 

Dean’s sweltering when he wakes up, though he doesn’t recall turning the AC down – the temperature has lingered in the nineties all week, and he wouldn’t want it on anything less than the highest setting. Then, the first few bleary-eyed, groggy seconds of consciousness subside, and Dean realises what’s making him sweat. It’s Cas – he’s plastered to Dean’s back, clinging onto him like an octopus, with his arms on Dean’s waist and legs wrapped tight around his thighs. Dean makes a half-hearted attempt to wriggle away from his grip, which subsides into playful shoving, and it takes several minutes before Dean manages to free himself. Cas somehow manages to sleep right through it, and it takes a further five minutes before Dean finally wakes him up.

They head outside as soon as they’re dressed, and Dean makes sure to find a mailbox and send Sam’s postcard before they do anything else. Afterwards, they wander around in search of somewhere to eat, settling on a café two blocks over with a row of tables on the sidewalk and what has to be the best coffee Dean’s ever tasted. He asks for a refill every time their waiter reappears, not caring if he ends up so dosed on caffeine he can’t sleep for a week, and they sit out in the sun for a while after finishing their breakfast, opening the map and planning the rest of their day.

‘I’d like to visit St Patrick’s this morning,’ Cas announces, as Dean’s finishing his fourth cup of coffee.

‘What’s that?’ Dean asks.

‘The cathedral I told you about,’ Cas digs his phone out of his pocket, looks it up and shows Dean a picture. ‘I don’t think it’s too far away, either.’

They agree to see the cathedral this morning, and revisit Central Park this afternoon. Cas calculates the subway route, and smiles when Dean admits he’s a little more keen on the boat idea now.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s always felt a little out of place in churches. Being an atheist, or an agnostic (he hasn’t really decided), he always feels like he doesn’t have the right to set foot in any holy building, that his presence alone is a little sacrilegious. It must be at least ten years since he last visited a church. He has to admit the cathedral is pretty spectacular, even if he does feel a little uncomfortable under the watch of what he’s assuming are some pretty devout Catholics. The cathedral offers an escape from the heat and some silence in the midst of the city, though the atmosphere is more than a little eerie.

‘You seem apprehensive,’ Cas murmurs to Dean as they’re studying the stained-glass windows.

‘I don’t know, man,’ Dean replies. ‘I always feel weird in churches, not believing in all this.’

‘We have just as much right to be here as anyone else. Don’t be worried, Dean.’

‘Your parents were really into this stuff when you were a kid, huh?’ Dean asks, lowering his voice.

‘They’re still very religious, though they don’t force it on me these days. We went to church every Sunday, prayed every evening, said grace, and they sent me away to Bible camp every summer until I was fourteen.’

Dean snorts loudly, attracting the attention of an elderly couple nearby, who turn and glare at them. Cas glares too, though a lot less seriously, and elbows him in the ribs as a reminder that they’re in a House of the Lord, and that laughing comes across as a tad disrespectful.

‘Oops,’ Dean mumbles. He smiles at the couple, who shake their heads at him and walk away. ‘How was Bible camp?’

‘Awful,’ Cas replies, without a moment’s hesitation. ‘There was no freedom and it was too… cheery. Everyone was enthusiastic to the point of it becoming sickening. Everyone except for me, of course.’

‘All right, grumpy guts.’

Cas elbows him again, but he’s smiling this time.

‘So you learned a lot about this stuff when you were a kid, right?’ Dean asks. He lowers his voice again and gestures to the windows. ‘I mean, do you actually know who any of these guys are?’

‘The archangels? Yes, though I was never totally convinced by the idea of them. I can teach you their names if you’d like.’

To call Dean’s Biblical lore rusty would be an understatement. He only learned Genesis in that year or so his mom dragged him off to church, and can barely remember most of that. Cas has to start from scratch, refreshing Dean’s memory on creation and the Garden of Eden before moving on to the names of the archangels. He points out Michael, Gabriel and Raphael on the windows, explains their roles in Biblical canon and Lucifer’s fall from grace. It’s interesting, though much like Cas, Dean’s not keen on the idea of angels. He prefers to think of all this as myth, not some kind of bizarre history lesson.

Cas tells Dean he really wanted to come here for the architecture, and he spends a long time taking pictures of the ceiling and the arches. Dean waits for him in the pews, listening in to fragments of tours as they go past, entertaining himself trying to figure out which tourists are Americans and which ones are foreigners. Accent and language are key markers, of course, but Dean concludes that when they’re out of earshot, the ones wearing fanny packs and the largest amounts of polyester are most likely to be from the Midwest. He probably hears more languages spoken in those fifteen minutes than he’s heard in his entire life. One group nearby are speaking what he thinks might be German, but he’s not entirely sure. The furthest Dean ever got with foreign languages was a B in freshman Spanish and a few Latin classes, which seemed kind of pointless. He never understood why anyone in their right mind would want to study a dead language – Sam takes Latin at school and he loves it, but that’s not surprising considering what a massive nerd he is.

It’s no surprise that Cas sees little point in praying, but he gives a generous donation to the cathedral’s collection box and pauses to light a candle just before they leave. As the tiny flame springs to life, something changes in Cas – it’s small, and only lasts a moment, but Dean reckons he’s known him long enough to tell when something’s up. Dean may not always be the best at consoling people, or even just asking what’s wrong, but it’d feel wrong to say nothing at all, so he asks what’s up.

Cas pauses, and when his voice is quiet when he speaks. ‘In a few weeks’ time, it’ll be twenty years since my brother passed away. I don’t remember him, but I thought I should at least do something to commemorate.’

‘You never told me you had a brother,’ Dean replies.

‘I was almost two when he was born, and he was only a few weeks old when he passed away. He was sick from the day he was born, I'm not sure what it was, but the doctors couldn't find a way to save him,’ Cas replies. ‘My parents gave up trying for more children afterwards. They always dreamed of having a large family, and they never did, they poured themselves into their work instead. I do have a good relationship with them, but I think they’ve always been a little distant because of this. Maybe that’s why I’m not particularly good around people.’

Dean’s not entirely sure how he should reply. ‘You’re good with me,’ he affirms, after a pause.

‘You’re different. You’re the first person I’ve told about this.’

‘What makes me different?’

‘I think you know the answer to that already,’ Cas replies, kissing him on the cheek. He doesn’t seem to care who’s watching.

 

* * *

 

Cas doesn’t mention his brother again, and Dean doesn’t question him any further. If anything, he’s just glad that Cas trusts him enough to open up like that.

They return to Central Park in the early afternoon and make a beeline for the lake, stopping at the fountain along the way. Dean buys a soda from an ice cream truck and doesn’t open it, sitting on the edge of the fountain with the can plastered to his forehead in a vain attempt to stay cool instead. Cas spends fifteen minutes wandering back and forth from the fountain, searching meticulously for the perfect shot, and Dean’s content to wait for him. He’s gotten used to it by now, and if taking pictures makes Cas happy, Dean really doesn’t mind in the slightest. Once Cas is satisfied with the shots he’s taken, they head over to the boathouse.

The clerk selling boat rentals is kind of cute, but Dean makes a point not to flirt, knowing things could turn sour. It wouldn’t mean anything, of course, but it could still look pretty bad from Cas’ perspective. Dean hasn’t given it much thought until now, but he reckons Cas could be the jealous type, given the right circumstances – he hopes he’ll never have to find that out for certain.

However, making small talk with the clerk does pay off, as Dean discovers they’re allowed to fish on the lake. The prospect of renting a boat seems ten times more appealing after that, so he eagerly hands over the extra cash for fishing supplies.

Dean’s always loved fishing, and it brings back some of the better memories of his father growing up. They’d visit the lake just outside of Lawrence every summer and camp out there for a night or two. They started when Dean was five, and brought Sam along too once he grew old enough, and the two of them would spend months looking forward to those long weekends. These days, their father is too busy with work for fishing trips – he travels constantly, but it’s always for business, not pleasure. Sam, in the midst of his rebellious teenage years, has grown out of that sort of thing too, far more interested in spending time with friends than family. Dean likes to think they’re still close, and he knows they always will be, but he doesn’t spend as much time with his little brother as he used to.

Dean and Cas split the cost between them, with Dean paying for the fishing supplies and Cas paying for the boat. It’s only when they’re counting out loose change that Cas reveals he’s never set foot on a boat before, much less been fishing. Dean winks and says he’s glad to have the honour of teaching him.

Dean climbs in the boat first and offers a hand to Cas, who’s standing on the jetty with a crooked lifejacket and a worried look on his face, even though he's the one who wanted to do this in the first place. Dean sighs, waving his outstretched hand impatiently.

‘Dude, come on. This is not the time to be telling me you can’t swim.’

‘I can swim perfectly well, thank you,’ Cas huffs. ‘But this is a little intimidating.’

‘This’ll make rollercoasters and Ferris wheels look like nothing, and you were totally fine with the idea of them. You’re not gonna drown or anything.’

Cas reaches forward tentatively, grasps Dean’s hand and takes a large, wobbly step into the boat. His balance is totally off, and there’s a horrifying split second, playing out in slow-motion like some sort of cheesy action movie, where Dean’s one hundred and _ten_ percent convinced Cas is going to fall into the lake. He misses the water, thank God, but he stumbles into the boat with enough force to send it rocking violently, and Dean only just manages to keep his balance, Cas clutching onto him for anchor.

There’s a few seconds of stunned silence, but once the shock subsides, Dean laughs – and once he starts, he can’t stop. He doubles over, laughing again and again until his jaw aches and tears well up at the corners of his eyes. Cas fails to see the funny side – he sulks at Dean afterwards, with his arms crossed and brow creased into a frown. Unfortunately for Cas, this makes Dean laugh even harder.

It takes Dean a few minutes to compose himself, but once he does, they row out to the middle of the lake, and Dean prepares their hooks, taking care to show Cas each step of the process.

‘Surely this is a little unfair to the fish,’ Cas comments, just as Dean’s about to cast his line. ‘They were never consulted about this.’

‘Dude, relax. We’ll release them after. You really think I’d want to gut one of these suckers anyway?’ Dean asks, his nose crinkling into a grimace at the thought.

Cas is a fast learner, and he turns out to be pretty good at this – maybe not quite as good as Dean, but Dean’s got fifteen years of practice under his belt, while Cas has forty-five minutes at best. Dean shares the technique his dad taught him, and Cas ends up hooking as many fish as Dean in the end. Dean shrugs, gives Cas a dismissive wave and blames his rusty skills on a lack of practice, and Cas smiles, knowing he’s only teasing. Hell, Cas should be used to it by now – teasing has always been Dean’s favourite way of showing love.

Dean’s pretty sure that you can’t develop sea legs in the space of an hour, so he makes sure to be the first one out of the boat, and helps Cas out as carefully as he can. Fortunately, Cas is a little more graceful this time around.

 

* * *

 

For lunch, they buy takeout from a restaurant near the park and eat on the grass, where they end up spending the rest of the afternoon. Dean doesn’t feel the need to be constantly busy, and they’ve done a fair share of sightseeing already. As long as he’s with Cas, Dean doesn’t really care what he does, and a few lazy hours in the sun seems as good a way to spend a summer afternoon as any.

Dean notices Cas is becoming increasingly tanned as the week goes on, since they’ve been spending so much time outdoors. Dean doesn’t tan so much, and he envies Cas a little for that – the sun only makes Dean's freckles darker, makes them all the more prominent against his skin. He already noticed a difference yesterday in the bathroom mirror. When Dean mentioned it to Cas, he smiled, pressed a gentle kiss to the bridge of Dean’s nose and told him how much he loves them.

Despite the hot sun, a gentle breeze picks up in the afternoon, and the sky is filled with fluffy white clouds. They watch the clouds pass, commenting on shapes – Cas seems to think each one looks like some kind of animal, whether it’s an alpaca or a flamingo. Dean has to disagree with Cas on the latter. He squints, turning his head in each and every direction, but he just can’t see it.

‘You’re just not looking hard enough,’ Cas says, with a smirk.

Son of a bitch. Isn’t that exactly what Dean said to him about his fucking owl yesterday? Dean rolls his eyes and swats Cas’ arm, and Cas just gives him that wry, know-all smile in return. Jeez, he’d be kind of annoying if he wasn’t so goddamn lovable, though Dean wonders if couples are just meant to annoy each other anyway. Most of the couples he knows seem to do that, at least. Dean pictures the two of them at eighty, shuffling through a retirement home on walkers, still rolling their eyes and groaning at one another’s terrible attempts at humour. He likes that idea.

 

* * *

 

‘Dude, we were in a church this morning.’

It’s merely an observation, not a complaint. After all, why would Dean ever think of complaining about this? Cas’ mouth is on his neck, kisses interspersed by gentle bites as he travels up to the tender flesh just below Dean’s jaw, where he grazes his teeth along the skin and begins sucking a bruise. After Tuesday, there’s no way Dean would ever think of passing up what he hopes will be another incredible night.

Cas takes his words a little too seriously sometimes, but thankfully, he ignores that comment. Instead, he leans in close, until his lips brush against Dean’s earlobe. ‘Tell me what you want.’

Dean’s voice is quiet, a little shaky when he replies, but the words come easier than he might have expected.

‘Want you to fuck me,’ he mumbles.

Dean has never found it easy, asking for this, explaining to his partner exactly what he wants. Most of his previous hook-ups were based on assumptions and unspoken words, and Dean can’t remember the last time he was asked what he really wanted. He’s not sure if this is ever going to be easy, but he does know that Cas will listen.

Cas hums against Dean’s ear, lifts his head and kisses him, slow but determined. Then he reaches for Dean’s hands, pushes them down against the mattress and laces their fingers together.

‘Tell me what I can do to you. Tell me what you like.’

Dean exhales slowly, swallows hard and holds Cas’ unwavering blue stare. His heart is in his mouth, and feels like it’s hammering at a thousand beats per minute.

‘You can hold me down,’ he mumbles, and his voice is still wavering a little. ‘You can pull my hair. You can be rough with me. Whatever you want, Cas. I can take it.’

‘Tell me if there’s something you don’t like.’

‘I will.’

Cas kisses him again. ‘I love you.’

‘Love you too.’

Cas undresses them both, taking his time to kiss every newly-exposed inch of Dean’s skin with each item of clothing he removes. When he reaches Dean’s inner thighs, he sucks another bruise into the flesh, dark purple against his skin. Cas takes the head of Dean’s cock into his mouth, and he’s not so impatient as Tuesday night. He teases Dean a little this time, licking in a slow line from base to head, smearing pre-come across his lips and dipping his head to nose at Dean’s balls. They’d been waiting almost a year and a half for their first time, so it’s no surprise that they were desperate for one another. Dean prefers it like this, a little slower, taking enough time to appreciate every moment – the prospect of sex is no less exciting this time around, but it doesn’t seem necessary for the act itself to be quite so frantic as before.

From there, Cas guides Dean onto his stomach, places strong hands on Dean’s thighs, spreading them apart, and opens him up with his tongue. No one’s ever done this for Dean before. Even for all of the countless times he and Benny slept together, he was still too squeamish, too uncomfortable with the thought of doing it, and Dean never quite gained the courage to ask. The hot, wet press of Cas’ tongue has Dean pushing his hips back and moaning low into the pillow before he’s entirely aware that he’s doing it, and when Cas finally pushes two slick fingers inside him, it happens a lot easier than Dean might have expected. He’s not sure if anyone’s taken so much care of him before.

Dean tells Cas when he’s ready. Cas manoeuvres him onto his back before leaning towards the nightstand, grabbing a condom and ripping the packet open with his teeth, which Dean’s pretty sure is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Once he’s prepped them both, Cas hooks Dean’s knees under his elbows, guides Dean’s legs up and around his waist, and pushes in.

There’s that familiar dull burn, a little more intense than Dean remembers it – though he figures it must be a couple of years since he last did this, and slowly subsides once Cas starts to move his hips. He keeps his thrusts slow and deep at first, pinning Dean’s wrists to the bed, and dips his head to kiss Dean – on the mouth, along his jaw, and down the column of his throat, peppering a few more gentle bites there along the way.

Dean knows he’s being loud, a lot more so than he expected. In the past, he was never comfortable with the idea of making noise in bed – with Benny, he’d resort to burying his face in the pillow or biting the back of his hand to stifle any noises he made. Dean always thought being loud was a girl thing, and he felt uncomfortable with the idea of doing it – he’d avoid it any way he could, but his current position, lying on his back with his hands entwined with Cas’, doesn’t allow for that. He starts to wonder if things are different with Cas. By this point, Dean doesn’t see much reason for pretence, or hiding from him – they’ve shared enough already, maybe he should try to forget his hang-ups and lose himself a little. Maybe he owes that to Cas. After all, Cas has taught Dean a lot about himself in the time they’ve been together.

He moans a little, testing it out, and it feels kind of good – he might be able to enjoy this more if he can forget about being quiet. He tries it again, a little louder this time, moans Cas’ name a couple of times and curses under his breath. Cas kisses him harder, tells him to be louder, and Dean gains a little more confidence after that. He’s not as loud as Cas was the other night (he still has a long way to go before he gets there), but he’s surprised with himself all the same, and more surprised at how good it feels.

Then Cas grabs Dean’s calf, releasing Dean’s left hand, pushes his leg even higher and changes the angle by a fraction, brushing a sweet spot, and _fuck,_ Dean can’t help but cry out. He instinctively clamps his free hand over his mouth, and Cas stops moving.

‘Don’t,’ Cas breathes. ‘I want to hear you.’

‘Shit,’ Dean says. He makes a half-hearted attempt to stifle a laugh, and fails miserably. ‘The people next door are gonna fucking kill us.’

‘Let them hear,’ Cas replies, with a grin.

When Cas starts to move again,everything builds hard and fast. Dean slides a clumsy hand between their bodies, fumbling over sweat-slick skin, and starts to touch himself. The warmth in his lower belly increases, tightens, curling around the base of his spine, and Dean reckons he’s maybe half a minute from coming when Cas stops completely, pulls out and kisses him hard.

‘Turn over,’ Cas orders.

Dean groans. ‘ _Fuck_ , Cas.’ He’s a little alarmed at the desperation in his voice. He wouldn’t mind a warning next time, but he complies, rolling over onto his stomach and pushing his hips back towards Cas.

In their new position, Cas places his right hand between Dean’s shoulder blades and pushes him down against the mattress, keeping his thrusts short and fast this time, knowing how close both of them are. Dean feels Cas’ fingers inch upwards, dance up the nape of his neck and scratch the back of his head, stroking the fine hairs there. Dean wasn’t lying when he said hair-pulling was a turn-on – he’s convinced previous partners to do that, and he loves it. When he’s teetering on the brink of orgasm, it can be enough to send him toppling over the edge. Cas’ touch seems hesitant, as if he’s eager to do it, but not entirely sure if Dean will let him.

‘You can do it, babe,’ Dean mumbles, his voice rough against the pillow.

So Cas does – he weaves his fingers through Dean’s hair, grabs a chunk of it in his fist and pulls hard, craning Dean’s neck, and leans down to kiss his throat, biting at the soft flesh beside his Adam’s apple.

Dean comes half a minute later, only when Cas tells him to. Cas follows soon after, pulling off and collapsing next to Dean on the bed, hard enough to make the bedsprings creak. Dean’s sore, exhausted, his legs are trembling – and God, he can’t stop grinning. He doesn’t think he could if he tried. Thatwas just as incredible as their first time, perhaps even better. Cas sidles up close, wraps his arms tight around Dean and showers him with fervent kisses and whispered words of praise, and Dean’s so in love with Cas in that moment he swears he’s going crazy.

They come down slowly, and staying in that blissful, post-orgasm haze for what feels like an eternity. Dean’s no longer conscious of the time, and careless of the universe beyond this bed. He drifts off to sleep sometime later with his head on Cas’ chest, the warm, steady drum of Cas’ heart reverberating through his ears.

 

** Friday **

**  
**

As far as Dean’s concerned, there are few things more satisfying than waking up next to Cas every morning. Waking up next to him naked might be the only thing that’s even better. Dean rolls over and eases Cas awake with a handful of slow, sleepy morning kisses, accompanied by an extra dose of scratchy stubble.

‘Good morning,’ Cas murmurs drowsily against Dean’s mouth.

‘Morning, Cas,’ Dean mumbles, with a grin.

‘Did you enjoy last night?’

Dean gives an affirmative hum. ‘Strong contender for the best night of my life. Still kinda sore, though.’

Cas gives him a sleepy, satisfied smile, and kisses him again.

Dean drags himself out of bed just after nine, but it’s almost ten by the time they leave the hotel. Dean takes twice as long in the shower as he normally would, because Cas decides to join him halfway through.

Cas booked their tickets for the Statue of Liberty today, so they head south on the subway and decide to stop for breakfast somewhere along the way. On the train, Cas unfolds their map on his knees and alternates careful glances between it and the subway map on the opposite wall of the car, calculating which stop would be the best to alight at. In the end, Dean picks one at random, grabs Cas’ hand and hauls him off the train. Cas looks puzzled, and he walks slowly behind Dean, a little apprehensive, but Dean reckons the occasional dose of spontaneity never hurt anyone. This week has proved that Cas is fun to be around, and Dean would agree that being well-organised is generally a good thing, but Cas does rely on order a little too much sometimes.

‘Dean, where are we going?’ Cas asks as they’re ascending the steps out of the station. Dean’s still holding onto his hand, leading Cas through a crowd of passengers.

‘I don’t know,’ Dean replies, with a shrug.

‘Are you being serious?’

‘Come on, man. It’s good to take a chance every once in a while.’ He turns back to Cas once they reach the sidewalk, puts his arm around Cas’ waist and chuckles at the puzzled look on his face.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll find somewhere good to eat. Promise.’

That promise comes true – in fact, they spot a few good-looking places to eat, and settle on a little Mexican café on a street corner two blocks from the station. The décor is leaning towards tacky, and there’s some cheesy telenovela playing on the small TV in one corner (which Dean actually gets pretty engrossed in, though his Spanish is more than a little rusty these days), but the food looks great and the staff are ridiculously friendly. If anything, they might be a little too much so.

Their waitress is a glamorous woman in her fifties with an outdated eighties perm and the strongest Spanish accent Dean’s ever heard. She’s completely enamoured with Cas from the start (Dean reckons he has that effect on people) and flirts with him at every opportunity, leaning over the table in her low-cut dress, twirling her hair like a teenager and giggling at almost everything he says. It reaches a point where Cas automatically gives Dean the most horrified look every time she reappears from the kitchen, which makes Dean laugh so much he almost cries. He’s willing to leave a huge tip for the entertainment value of that alone, but the food turns out to be amazing too. The portions are colossal, smothered in grease and hot enough to make Dean’s eyes water, which is exactly how he likes it.

 

* * *

 

Standing in Battery Park, overlooking the sea and waiting for the ferry to arrive, Dean realises that if he learned anything yesterday, it’s that Cas and boats are two things that really don’t mix. There’s no other way of reaching the Statue of Liberty, unless Cas magically discovers how to teleport over there or something. Sure Cas is smart, but Dean reckons that’s a bit of a stretch, even for him.

This time it’s Dean who’s a little uneasy. It’s only been two days since he first set foot in the ocean, and now he’s setting sail on it. That’s a pretty sudden leap, though he supposes there’s been a handful of sudden firsts for both of them this week. Tuesday night stands out as a particular success. As they’re lining up to board the ferry, Dean starts to wonder if more people die from plane crashes, road accidents or disasters at sea. Fortunately, they get on board before he can give it too much thought, and it’s too late to change his mind once they set sail. Dean was on the swim team for a couple of years in elementary school, but he doesn’t reckon he’s anywhere near good enough to reach the shore from here.

Cas is too interested in the view to notice a woman nearby who frowns at the two of them, before leaning over and whispering something to what Dean can only assume is her husband. They look like tourists for sure (they’re rocking that whole fanny-pack-and-polyester thing that Dean’s learned to watch out for), and they’re surrounded by four bratty, whiny kids, who are doing a fantastic job of pissing off just about everyone on board. Dean glares back, and doesn’t get what the big deal is – until he remembers he’s got an arm around Cas (and a hickey on his neck, thanks to last night), and wonders if they’ve got an issue with that. Dean reacts as he sees necessary, by leaning over and kissing Cas - and he really overdoes it, adding a gratuitous amount of tongue and moaning against Cas' mouth. Cas returns it with just as much tongue and enthusiasm as Dean - he looks a little dazed afterwards, but he doesn’t complain. The couple turn away after that, and they don’t look back until the ferry arrives at the island’s shore.

 

* * *

 

After an hour of wandering around the island, Cas finally persuades Dean to let him take a proper picture of them in front of the Statue of Liberty. It’s a little cheesy, and Dean can’t begin to imagine how many tourists must have done this before, but he’s glad Cas asked for permission before taking a photo this time. Dean always feels weird posing for pictures, and he’s never entirely sure how he should smile, so he leans over and kisses Cas on the cheek to avoid thinking about it.

A big, soppy smile spreads across Cas’ face when he glances at his camera afterwards, and he leans over to show Dean the picture.

‘I think it turned out well,’ Cas says.

‘Yeah, I like it too.’

It’s true, Dean has to admit it’s a great picture, even if he felt a little awkward taking it. He’ll remind Cas to send him all of the photos he’s taken this week, and he’s tempted to get this one printed out. There’s a spot on his bedroom wall that needs filling, and he can’t think of anything better to fill it with.

Dean would’ve thought Cas had enough souvenirs already, with the hundreds of photos he’s taken and that stupid owl he won, but he still insists on visiting the gift shop before they leave and spends a good fifteen minutes browsing. Dean is mostly sick of tourists by this point (he knows they’re tourists too, but that doesn’t stop everyone else from annoying the ever-loving crap out of him) and doesn’t fancy being squashed up in a crowded store with a horde of them, so he waits for Cas outside. Cas returns with as many tacky souvenirs as he reckons he can fit into his suitcase, and refuses to tell Dean how much money he spent.

‘Come on, man. How much did you pay for that crap? Thirty bucks? Fifty?’ Dean says, attempting to pry the scrunched-up receipt from Cas’ fist. Cas bats him away and manages to throw the receipt in the trash before Dean can get his hands on it.

 

* * *

 

On the ferry back to Manhattan, Cas suggests they visit the Museum of Natural History. It’s only mid-afternoon, far too early to call it a day, and they need something else to do with what little time they have left. It wouldn’t feel right to waste a minute of their final day together. Cas finds the museum’s website on his phone and reads Dean a list of the exhibits, and Dean decides he’s game as soon as Cas mentions dinosaurs. Dean’s always thought they were awesome, and he’ll gladly pay to see a room full of bones. He’s seen Jurassic Park more times than he can count, but he’s never been to a museum like this before.

There’s one more thing Cas wants to do before they get back on the subway and leave downtown Manhattan. Dean follows him patiently as they make a ten-minute diversion on foot, so Cas can take pictures of the Brooklyn Bridge.

 

* * *

 

Dean and Cas work well together. They always do, but exploring the museum is one of those times when Dean realises just how much so. Dean doesn’t like the idea of a formal tour, whether it’s by a person or a recording, so they don’t bother – Dean would much rather have the freedom to explore at his own pace and discover things for himself. Even Cas declines the audio guide when they’re offered it. For all of his careful organisation, Cas does have something of an independent streak, which Dean likes a lot.

A guide seems unnecessary in the end, anyway. They have a map of the museum, which they quickly figure out (Dean reckons he’s done enough map reading this week to last a lifetime, and he must be getting good at it by now), and the combined knowledge between them proves to be more than enough as they tour the museum.

They spend a long time walking around the dinosaur exhibits, seeing as this is Dean’s area of expertise, and what he was most looking forward to about coming. There are information plaques by every skeleton and fossil, and Dean doesn’t recognise every name (and there are certainly a few he won’t attempt to pronounce), but he elaborates as much as he can. Cas is patient, listening intently as Dean teaches him everything he can remember off the top of his head. Dean doesn’t doubt for a second that Cas is genuinely interested in what he has to say – not everyone has quite the same reaction when Dean geeks out, so he’s glad Cas will listen.

Their roles shift when they reach the ‘Human Origins’ section of the museum, and this is where Cas really shines. Dean has no clue about this kind of thing, while Cas seems to be a fountain of historical knowledge. It doesn’t matter what part of the world or which ancient civilisation they’re looking at – whether it’s South American, Native American or African, Cas has at least a little to say about everything.

‘How’d you know all this, anyway?’ Dean asks, as they’re wandering through a room on Native American history.

‘I read a lot of history books,’ Cas replies nonchalantly. ‘My parents’ house is like a library, and I’ve read most of what they have. There was a point in high school when I considered majoring in History.’

‘How come you’re doing English, then?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Cas answers. ‘Maybe I prefer the freedom of it.’

‘Good answer,’ Dean replies, with a grin.

Dean wants to visit the gift shop this time, and childish as it may be, he buys a plastic T-Rex to sit on his desk at home. It’s a nice little souvenir, a hell of a lot cheaper than the crap Cas bought this morning, and it’ll serve as a reminder of what’s turned out to be the best week of Dean’s life so far.

 

* * *

 

There’s one more, somewhat unofficial item on Dean’s itinerary for the week. Before they leave, he wants to visit a proper New York diner (or somewhere that fulfils his grossly romanticised idea of one, at least) and stuff himself so full of greasy, artery-clogging food he won’t be able to walk straight afterwards. After some careful searching on Cas’ phone over late-afternoon coffee, they find a place two blocks over that looks like it’ll fit the bill nicely.

Dean’s pleased to discover that the place they choose is pretty close to what he pictured. It’s decked out in true fifties fashion, complete with Formica tables, a chequered floor and a jukebox in one corner, playing a handful of classic rock ‘n’ roll songs on a loop. The music Dean listens to is generally a little more modern than that, mostly seventies and eighties, but he’s still impressed, and mentally congratulates whoever runs this joint for having pretty decent taste.

Looking at the menu, Dean wonders how in the hell he’s ever going to choose what to order. Everything sounds amazing, and he’s pretty sure he’d eat everything on the menu if given the chance. A waitress soon comes by and they order thick shakes, chocolate for Dean and strawberry for Cas.

Dean takes a loud slurp of his milkshake and glances at Cas over the top of his menu. ‘What do you want?’

Cas shrugs, reaching over to place his menu back in its holder at the far end of the table. ‘I’m not fussy, I’ll eat anything you will. If I remember correctly, you’re the one who wanted to come here. Pick whatever you like.’

‘You know that’s a dangerous thing to say to me, right?’ Dean replies, with a wink.

He would’ve thought Cas learned his lesson on Wednesday, that leaving Dean to order food is never a good idea, because he’s always guaranteed to go a little crazy. He does exactly that now, ordering a small mountain of food to split between them – bacon cheeseburgers, onion rings, French fries, sweet potato fries and a huge plate of buffalo wings. He’ll think about dessert too, if he’s still got room after all this. Even their waitress looks a little intimidated by the size of their order, but she doesn’t comment.

‘What about our road trip, Cas?’ Dean asks once their waitress leaves. He’s just noticed a huge US roadmap on the wall above their booth, with Interstate highways mapped out in thick orange lines. If Cas is serious about this, they should probably start figuring out where they actually want to go.

‘What about it?’ Cas asks.

‘I mean, like where do you want to go?’

‘We could start in Maine, I suppose. If you were willing to come pick me up. New England is beautiful, I would love to show it to you.’

‘Then DC?’ Dean suggests. ‘Gotta see the White House sometime. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet the President.’

‘Then Florida,’ Cas adds. ‘I’d like to visit Disney World. I begged my parents to take me there when I was younger, but they never got around to it.’

Dean snorts. ‘Dude, you’re nearly twenty-two.’

‘And?’ Cas asks, with a playful frown. He cocks his head to one side and gives Dean a gentle kick under the table.

‘All right, fine,’ Dean huffs, hands raised in mock defeat. ‘Then we’ve gotta head down to Louisiana. I’m not gonna die having never visited New Orleans.’

‘What’s there?’

‘Come on, man. Mardi Gras! We can party all night long and drink till we pass out. I’ll get a fake ID or something. And what about the musical history? It’s the birthplace of jazz.’

‘I’m not very musically inclined.’

‘Well, I’m gonna change that,’ Dean says. ‘I’ll put together a list of albums you've gotta listen to. We could go to Texas, there’s a bunch of festivals in Austin. I’m gonna turn you into a fucking musical expert, Cas. Just watch me.’

‘I suppose Texas makes sense. From there, it doesn’t look far to Kansas,’ Cas replies, reaching over and tracing his finger up the orange line marking the I-35. ‘Then I could meet your family.’

Dean sighs and smiles. The prospect of that is still a little intimidating, but he knows it’ll happen eventually. There’s nothing to worry about either, since Dean reckons Cas would get along great with his family. ‘Yeah, they wanna meet you. My mom does, anyway. And I know you’d like my brother. You’re just as geeky as each other.’

Cas shakes his head at that, but he’s still smiling.

Their waitress has to make two trips to carry all of their food, and it really does look like the Rocky Mountains in edible form when everything is spread out across the table. With a strong joint effort, they manage to devour most of it, and everything tastes incredible. Part of Dean wishes he could stay here overnight and keep eating until he couldn’t manage another bite, or until he ended up in the emergency room (whichever came first). He does order dessert in the end, since they have every flavour of pie he could possibly think of, and that’s an opportunity far too good to turn down.

Dean really does struggle to climb out of their booth as they’re getting ready to leave, though he tries to hide it as best he can. ‘I can’t walk because I ate too much’ doesn’t sound like the most dignified excuse for laziness.

As they’re leaving the diner, Cas suggests they take the subway back to their hotel. Dean can’t tell if he’s teasing or not, but either way, it’s an offer he won’t refuse – and much to his relief, the nearest station is only a short walk away.

 

* * *

 

They make an effort to have an early night, though Dean would much rather stay out with Cas, take one last walk around the city, and maybe hit a bar or two if he was old enough. Cas’ flight leaves at twelve thirty tomorrow, and they’ll have to be at the airport a couple of hours before that. Arriving late wouldn’t be such a hot idea. Cas missing his flight would give them an excuse to spend an extra day or two together, but Dean reckons Cas wouldn’t be too happy about wasting a couple hundred carefully-saved dollars.

It’s nine by the time they reach the hotel, and they’re curled up in bed half an hour later. The sun is only just beginning to set, and it seems too early to switch off the light, so they lie in bed and talk. It would seem wrong to turn on the TV, or fall asleep early when this is their last night together for a yet-undetermined period of time. Dean can’t imagine anywhere else he’d rather be than lying in this huge, heavenly bed with his head nestled against Cas’ shoulder.

Much like Wednesday, the conversation soon becomes a lot more serious than Dean might have expected. It starts with Cas talking about college, and drifts along to terrifying subject of ‘The Future’ with a capital F, lit up in Dean’s mind like a fluorescent neon sign. This conversation has been coming for quite some time now. It might not be the easiest subject in the world, but they can't avoid it forever.

‘You graduate next summer, right?’ Dean asks.

‘Yes, in June,’ Cas replies. ‘Teacher training takes a year or two, so I suppose I would start that straight after.’

‘You’re pretty sure you want to do that now, huh?’

‘I think so.’

‘You’d be good at it. I can totally picture you bossing kids around. You’re good at bossing me around, anyway.’ Dean chuckles, leans in and plants a kiss on the curve of Cas’ jaw.

‘What about you, Dean?’ Cas asks, running his fingers lazily through Dean’s hair.

‘Finish college next year. Then I’ve gotta do some training, but I can do that on the job. So if I can find someone who wants to hire me, I’ll be working in an auto shop less than a year from now, which is pretty awesome. I might finally be able to move out after that.’

‘Are you eager to move out?’

Dean exhales slowly, musing over Cas’ question. ‘I guess. I’ll miss my mom and my brother, though,’ he admits. Dean would never deny that he loves his father, but their relationship has become a little strained in recent years. He doesn’t think he’ll miss his dad so much, simply because he’s never around these days. As much as he’d never want to admit it, Dean is a true momma’s boy at heart, and he’s going to miss his mom like crazy once he’s gone. She’ll miss him too, and Dean knows her well enough to bet she’ll be a mad empty-nester once her boys fly the roost. He wonders if Sam will ever be able to leave at all, or if he’ll still be stuck at home when he’s forty.

There’s a short pause before Cas asks the million-dollar question. Dean knows it’s coming, it seems inevitable by this point.

‘What about us, Dean?’

‘I’ve waited a long time for that question, man.’

‘It’s important.’

Dean sighs. By this point, he can’t imagine his life without Cas. Words can’t quite describe his relief that this week has worked out so well, and that the chemistry they shared over text has translated perfectly into the real world. After this week, he’s not sure if he could ever go back to being just friends with Cas, and he doesn’t want that. He wants so much more, and he’s praying Cas does too.

‘I want to be with you, Cas,’ Dean says slowly. ‘Don’t give me some long-winded speech about how it won’t be easy, ‘cause I know. But damn it, I want to try.’

‘Well, you’ll be relieved to know I didn’t prepare any sort of speech,’ Cas replies, ruffling Dean’s hair, ‘And honestly, I would’ve said the same thing.’

‘So what are we gonna do?’

‘We have to close the distance, somehow. I suppose one, or both of us will have to move. Does that sound good to you?’

‘Of course,’ Dean lifts his head and looks up at Cas. ‘Wait, does this mean you want to move in with me? You’re that serious?’

‘Aren’t you?’ Cas asks, with a frown.

‘Yeah, ‘course I am. I’m just glad you are, too.’

‘Good. I suppose we’ll have to figure all of this out next summer.’

‘Come on, I’ve gotta see you sometime before that, Cas,’ Dean wraps his arms around Cas’ waist and nuzzles at his chest. ‘I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t.’

‘What about Christmas?’ Cas suggests, after a pause. ‘I’ll be home for a month, and my parents seem eager to meet you.’

Dean chuckles nervously. ‘Jeez, meeting the parents. That’s always a tough one,’ he replies. ‘Yeah, Christmas sounds good.’

‘I’ll ask them when I get home.’

‘God, I don’t want to take you back to the airport tomorrow. This week’s been awesome.’ He squeezes Cas’ waist, holding him a little closer.

Cas yawns softly, running his fingers through Dean’s hair. ‘Do you remember when we were at the Empire State building, and I made a wish at the top?’

Dean frowns. ‘Yeah, and you never told me what it was.’

‘You’re not supposed to tell anyone, because it won’t come true if you do. That rule doesn’t apply after it comes true, though – and it did. I wanted you to know that I wished for a wonderful week, and I got it. So thank you.’

Dean lifts his head and smiles. ‘God, you’re a sap,’ he says, and kisses Cas.

 

** Saturday **

 

The alarm on Dean’s phone goes off at eight fifteen on Saturday morning. He assumed that would allow them plenty of time for breakfast, checking out and making their way to the airport. He’s groggy and bleary-eyed when he wakes up, and presses snooze twice in the end, desperate to stay in warm, sleepy bliss with Cas for as long as possible, their bodies pressed together and limbs tangled under the covers.

He nudges Cas awake at eight twenty-five, hauls himself out of bed and climbs into the shower, turning the dial down to cold in an attempt to jolt himself awake. Cas doesn’t join him this time, and he’s a lot quieter than usual - they exchange only a handful of sentences as they move around one another to dress and finish packing. Dean attempts to lighten the mood, making a teasing comment when Cas tries to squash the huge bag of souvenirs into his suitcase, but Cas gives him nothing more than a reluctant smile in return. The prospect of saying goodbye looms over them like a storm cloud, dark and foreboding. Dean knew this would be tough, but he’s dreading it even more than he thought he would.

They head downstairs for breakfast once they’ve finished packing, and Dean’s phone vibrates just as they’re stepping into the elevator – it’s a text from Sam.

**Received 08:58 AM --  
** **Thanks for the postcard, jerk. Say hi to Cas for me. :-)**

Dean shows it to Cas, and silently thanks his brother for sending it. It helps to initiate some conversation between them, and Cas isn't so quiet over breakfast.

 

* * *

 

Back in their room, Cas lingers by the window, enjoying the view for a final time as Dean does a quick sweep to check they haven’t forgotten anything. He walks over, slips his arm around Cas’ waist and kisses him on the cheek.

‘We should go, babe. Don’t wanna be late.’

‘I’m going to miss this view.’

‘It is awesome – but come on, you get a view of the ocean at home, right?’

‘It’s not the same, though,’ Cas sighs.

 

* * *

 

After forking out a small fortune for parking (Dean winces as he types his PIN into the machine), it’s an emotional moment when Dean’s finally reunited with his car – for him, at least. Not so much for Cas, who hovers awkwardly, one eyebrow raised in half-serious contempt as Dean strokes the hood, checks her tyres, makes sure no one bumped into her while trying to park or scratched her out of boredom, or whatever it is that leads idiot teenagers to scratch cars. He breathes a sigh of relief, before remembering to unlock the passenger door for Cas.

Climbing into the driver’s seat for the first time in almost a week feels like Heaven, and it’s a good thirty seconds after sitting down before Dean finally switches on the ignition. He wants to take a moment to appreciate all the little things he’s missed over the past few days, that familiar old leather smell, the feel of the seats and the perfect fit of the steering wheel beneath his fingers.

‘Dean, why aren’t we moving?’ Cas asks.

‘Sorry, man. Just this bond we’ve got, I guess,’ Dean teases, running his hands down the steering wheel. ‘You wouldn’t get it.’

Cas rolls his eyes, and Dean chuckles.

The traffic is a little quieter than when they arrived, but it’s still pretty hectic, and Dean can’t comprehend how it can take so goddamn long to drive ten miles. At home, that distance would seem like nothing – it’s that far to Kansas City, Dean used to drive his mom there so she could go shopping and that took no time at all, but New York is totally different. This morning, they hit a red light at almost every intersection, Dean’s not entirely sure where he’s going and Cas has to glance at the map for him every few minutes, so it takes them the better part of an hour to reach the airport.

Dean slips an old mixtape into the cassette player and cranks down the windows to keep his cool in the traffic. He doesn’t realise he’s singing along until four songs in, when he notices Cas staring at him with raised eyebrows and a small, half-mocking smile. Cas snorts and stifles a laugh with the back of his hand when Dean reaches the next chorus and belts out the lyrics at the top of his voice – they’re at a stoplight, so more than a few passers-by turn and stare. Dean’s so off-key it sounds like he’s singing a totally different song, and he knows he’s a terrible singer, though that’s never stopped him. There are few things Dean wouldn’t do to make Cas smile, even if it’s at the expense of his own dignity.

When he’s not judging Dean’s awful voice or giving him directions, Cas seems content to sit and watch the world go by. He comments on a few things that pique his interest – buildings, the river, dogs and odd pedestrians _(‘Dean, look at the Dalmatian’, ‘I’m fairly certain that man was riding a unicycle’)._ Dean’s happy to listen, and he's relieved that Cas is more talkative than before.

 

* * *

 

Dean doesn’t park this time, heading straight for the terminal to drop Cas off instead. A huge part of him would love to stay and keep Cas company while he waits out the hour and a half till his flight departs, though Dean’s not sure if he’d be allowed to stay in the departure lounge without actually boarding a plane (and there's no way he's ever doing that). A smaller part of him knows staying would be a stupid idea – he’s aiming to reach Ohio by this evening, and he’ll need to set off soon if he’s to make it there before dusk. He’s due back at work in three days and can’t afford to be late – he owes his boss that much, she gave him a week and a half off to be with Cas. Anything for the sake of true love, she’d said, as long as Dean’s back by Tuesday.

He pulls up to the curb, helps Cas unload his bags from the trunk - and notices a huge pair of startled blue eyes watching him from the back seat.

‘Dude, what about the owl?’ Dean asks, gesturing to it. ‘You gonna buy an extra ticket for it?’ he adds, with a chuckle.

‘I have thirteen dollars left, I couldn’t even afford to put it in the hold,’ Cas replies, cocking his head to one side. ‘Can you take it? Please? You have room in your car.’

Dean sighs, more than half-jokingly. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t anticipated this. ‘Yeah, all right. Don’t expect me to keep it forever, though. It gives me all kinds of creeps.’

‘I wasn’t expecting that at all. I won it, I’d like it back,’ Cas grumbles, with a frown that Dean can’t help but smile at. Cas has turned out to be a total grump at the best of times, but Dean finds it strangely endearing, and he’ll miss it like crazy once Cas is gone. However Dean tries to justify it, by considering that it’s 'only'five months until he sees Cas again, it really doesn’t work. Dean visiting over Christmas isn’t even definite yet, it’s nothing more than a suggestion until Cas asks his parents. After spending a week together in person, Dean can’t imagine that texting, messaging and Skype will have quite the same charm they used to.

He leans forward, places a gentle hand on Cas’ jaw and kisses him then, cherishing it all the more knowing it’s their last until winter, perhaps longer. Cas melts into it, returning it with so much force that it takes Dean a little by surprise, sucking the air out of his lungs. They might get a couple of odd looks for this, but nothing like the kind of reaction Dean would get at home, and he really doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.

Cas clings to him afterward, his arms tight around Dean’s waist, head buried into the crook of Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s not sure if he’d be able to pull away, either. He finds himself sniffing, starts to feel the corners of his eyes welling up, and bites down hard on his bottom lip to contain himself. God damn it, he’s not going to cry, not now. He doesn’t even remember the last time he cried. He didn’t when Cassie broke up with him - he just punched his bedroom wall instead, hard enough to leave a hole and ended up in the emergency room with a bloodied hand and two broken knuckles. That might not be the healthiest way of dealing with things, but it’s usually how Dean does it.

‘I love you so much,’ Cas murmurs against his shoulder.

‘I love you too.’

Cas pulls away, but takes Dean’s hand and holds on firmly. He swallows hard, and there’s a faint waver in his voice when he speaks. ‘I’ll ask my parents about Christmas as soon as I get home. My dad is collecting me from the airport, I can ask him and text you along the way.’

Cas has been wonderfully calm around Dean this week, remarkably so, especially considering how fucking _petrified_ Dean had been, and Cas was a lot more graceful about hiding his nerves than Dean. This is the first and only time so far where Dean’s seen him a little flustered, and it’s sweet, really. Dean knows Cas is dreading their time apart just as much as he is, perhaps even more. Dean has a whole summer to spend with Charlie, maybe catch up with some of his other friends from high school, but he’s not sure if Cas has quite so many people to hang out with at home.

‘I won’t be able to read it if I’m on the road. Texting while driving? You’re encouraging me to break the law, man. And to think I thought of you as an upstanding citizen,’ Dean replies, shaking his head. ‘It’s fine, Cas. Wait ‘til you get home, check with your mom too. I’ll call you tonight, once I’ve found a motel. Sound good?’

‘All right,’ Cas turns his head, glances back at the terminal and sighs. ‘I suppose I should get going. It’ll take me a while to check in.’

‘Have a good journey.’

‘You too.’ Cas leans forward and kisses Dean again, short and sweet this time.

‘God, Christmas is too far away, man,’ Dean murmurs.

‘I’ve been trying to look at it this way,’ Cas replies. ‘We waited a year and a half to meet one another in person. I know it wasn’t easy, not all the time – but we got through it, didn’t we? Surely five months will seem like nothing in comparison to that.’

Dean smiles. He hadn’t thought of it like that. ‘Yeah, all right. I’ll try to look at it that way too.’

Cas returns his smile, and finally lets go of Dean’s hand. He picks up his suitcase and slings his backpack over one shoulder. ‘Goodbye, Dean.’

‘See you later, Cas.’

Dean watches Cas head into the terminal, and waits until he’s disappeared from sight before climbing back into his car. Dean exhales slowly. His stomach is knotted in a mix of emotions, making him feel queasy – he’s overwhelmingly relieved that the week went by so brilliantly, overwhelmingly sad that it’s over, and more excited than he could ever put into words at the thought of seeing Cas again. It’s a strange feeling, and not an entirely bad one either.

Cas’ words have really put things into perspective. Provided Christmas works out, that his parents agree to Dean staying with them (and there’s a good chance they will, if they’re as eager to meet Dean as Cas would have him believe), it is only five months until they see one another again, and if Dean compares that to the length of time he spent waiting for this week, it seems like nothing at all. It’s not like they won’t be in touch, either. If anything, Dean assumes their messaging and phone calls might become more frequent after this, if that’s even possible.

Their relationship hasn’t always been easy, and there’s no guarantee it’ll ever be, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying. Distance has been the only obstacle in their relationship thus far, and it won’t be too difficult to overcome, either. It’s only a matter of time before they can close the distance between them – Dean finishes his mechanics course in a matter of months, and Cas graduates next summer. After that, they can scrape together the money for an apartment, and they’ll finally be able to start a life together. Dean hasn’t planned out every detail yet – he doesn’t know whether he’ll move to Maine, if Cas will move to Kansas, or if they’ll pick somewhere else to settle down – somewhere new, unfamiliar and exciting. Dean reckons all of those ideas have their merits, and at the end of the day, he doesn’t really care where he ends up, so long as he’s with Cas.

He switches on the engine, fumbles around in his box of cassette tapes, and slips a new one into the player – AC/DC this time, _Back In Black._ For some reason, that song seems appropriate right now. It’s a gorgeous day, Dean’s got two thousand miles of highway to cover, and he’s feeling good. It’s weird – he was convinced he’d feel awful after this, but he doesn’t. He truly, honestly doesn’t. Cas is gone, but meeting him worked out better than Dean ever could have imagined, or ever could have hoped for. It’s only a matter of months before he sees Cas again, and if everything goes according to plan, less than a year until they move in together. Then Dean will get to wake up next to Cas every single morning, and maybe he will for the rest of his life. Dean can’t picture anything in the world he’d want more than that.

Christmas. Five months. It really won’t be that hard.

From now on, he’ll be counting down the days ‘til December.


End file.
